VAR MIA
VAR MIA
In Carabao Cup, the stakes run high,
Yet VAR, it seems, bids us goodbye.
No instant replay to judge the call,
Just fate’s hand, that truly says it all.
Chelsea and Liverpool, mighty foes,
Two teams in battle, the tension grows.
No technology to intervene,
Just passion and skill, these players glean.
Controversy may rear its ugly head,
As goals are scored, and doubts widespread.
But in the absence of VAR’s gaze,
We embrace uncertainty’s intricate phase.
Decisions made by mere human sight,
No video to prove who’s wrong or right.
It’s a throwback, of sorts, to days gone by,
Where judgment, it seems, reaches for the sky.
Referees ponder and whistle blows,
Fans hold their breath, tension sows.
Adrenaline pulses, hearts race fast,
No technology to judge the past.
In this Carabao Cup, VAR’s amiss,
Yet excitement still fills us with bliss.
The beauty of the game, untarnished and pure,
As we bask in its glory, eager to endure.