An Ode to Nat Phillips
A POEM BY MATTY
The Bolton Baresi,
The Aldi Maldini,
With a forehead as wide
As the eye could see.
“Championship at best”,
Some idiots may say,
But Nat can do special things on his day.
.
Nat Phillips, the young
The first of his name,
Last season, he rose to
Liverpool fame.
Dogged defending,
A Redman to the core.
A critical part of that miraculous top four.
.
Last-ditch efforts,
And thunderous headers,
He helped win games,
To the chagrin of bettors
.However, this season
His game is more refined
More like the typical CB of Klopp’s time.
.
So his speed isn’t great,
But his passing is now,
And he still stops attacks
With those big eyebrows.
So Nat’s in the team,
He’s seeing reward,
But is that enough for the Liverpool board?
.
It’s tough to break through
At a club this good,
But Big Nat doesn’t care
About the “would, could, or should”
He’s here to play,
To prove his greatness,
In the face of danger, Nat’s always fearless
.
The Bolton Baresi,
Nat Phillips the beast,
A man of our time,
On attackers he feasts.
Wherever he goes,
From this morn in December,
His efforts last season, we will always remember.
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