Time to stop dancing: the jig of joy.
Time to take your triumphant teammates –
weary legged, but ecstatic,
up the stadium stairs,
or onto a hastily built podium.
A walk of glory
to look at himself in the curved silver,
shining like a full moon
on a calm sea,
green and white ribbons, neatly tied,
fluttering in the sunlight,
glimmering in the floodlight,
as he lifts the cup,
to the sound of celebration,
that has changed over the years.
Caps and sticks in the air,
cards in hats,
fireworks that shake the stadiums foundations.
The emotion has never changed,
no matter if Glasgow or Lisbon,
the first, second or last,
history inscribed into silver,
the chapter closes, with you, always
a winning captain.