The pitch beckons all glitz,
Among all stadia this befits,
There is glory to be had,
A slice of immortality not bad.

There is sport and then there is art,
A gut feeling tells them apart,
When one sees it unfold,
One cannot but praise withhold.

Historians searching for words,
Statisticians mining them numbers as nerds.
We are all priviledged,
Witnessing maestros memories wedged