One – Nil

Under cold March skies the whistle cried,

At Stevenage F.C.’s ground with swelling pride,

The red and white stood firm and loud,

A restless, roaring, hopeful crowd.

From Berkshire came their rivals true,

Reading F.C. in royal blue,

With passing sharp and tempers bright,

Prepared to battle day to night.

The grass was slick, the air was tight,

Each tackle struck with raw delight,

A header glanced, the bar it kissed,

A moment balanced on a mist.

Stevenage surged with fearless play,

A thundered strike to light the day,

The net did ripple—roar fulfilled,

The only goal, the ground it thrilled.

Reading pressed with all their might,

But could not break the red wall’s fight,

Each clearance cheered, each second long,

Defence stood firm, unyielding, strong.

Till final whistle split the air,

Relief and joy were everywhere,

The scoreline simple, bold, and still—

Stevenage crowned it: one–nil. ⚽