Soaked

The rain came down without a care,
And soaked the players everywhere.
The pitch was less a pitch that day,
And more a swimming pool to play.

They kicked the ball — it barely moved,
Then hit a puddle and got grooved.
One player chased it full of speed,
Then slipped and landed with great greed.

The goalkeeper stood inside the goal,
Wondering if he’d lost control.
A shot came flying through the rain,
He dived — and disappeared again!

Their boots were filled with half the field,
Their socks had definitely been sealed.
One player slipped, then slipped once more,
And somehow ended on the floor.

They tried to pass, they tried to score,
But puddles seemed to want much more.
The referee looked rather blue,
And probably needed swimming shoes.

When finally the whistle went,
The players looked completely spent.
They trudged away, all soaked and brown,
Looking like they’d wrestled with the ground!

The scoreboard hardly mattered then,
For they’d survived the rain again.
And though they’d started dressed in clean,
They left looking like a muddy team.