Derek Millinchip, of Highweek, Newton Abbot, writes:

Re John Balment’s column, Winner’s Post, from a few weeks ago about today’s footballers.

In 2014 Tom Finney, one of the best players to grace a football pitch both for club and country died.

About this time, Wayne Rooney, arguably a player of similar prowess and fame today, received a pay increase taking his weekly income to approximately £300,000 in line with others involved in the modern football world.

Even after allowing for inflation, the disparity of reward for playing football and those that work to support, to me, seems unjustified, which prompted me to put pen to paper.

Tom Finney 1954 – £30.00000 per week.

Wayne Rooney 2014 – £300,000.0 per week.

It’s only a decimal point place different!

Ode to our footballing heroes from yesteryear

by Derek Millinchip

Stanley Matthews, Lofthouse, Finney, a dream to earn today’s priced Mini.

Now Ferraris, mansions too, the stars today can all accrue.

No helmets, nose pads, vests or glove, were worn by heroes as above.

Gents, they played, skill, strength and pride. A shake of hands though hard tackles tried.

No stretchers, shirt pulls, diver’s mime, But bucket and sponge, Jaffa half-time.

Engineering a faked free shot, or penalty even though that not.

Considered now the norm of play, not so our heroes past would play.

Worse plying a ref to address a blame, by getting a player sent off from game.

Our honourable hero never tries, to support an opponent’s pitch demise.

Now, tugging at shirts or shorts seems allowed, though sometimes a ref will order a foul.

Resulting in protests and waving of arms, like children denied they cry in alarm.

Yet shoulder to shoulder fair shove once the norm, draws the refs whistle as actors perform.

Rolling and holding their "injury whack" Surely yellow or red for this "vicious attack"!!

Then the curtain is down and amidst painful frown, fatal injured consoled, gets up to score goal.

But back to heroes of yesteryear, none of this nonsense would ever appear.

Keepers tall, strong, sublime, no appeals if shoved off line.

Hand to ball or ball to hand, none of these were ever planned

No need for hands behind your back, but front to save a groin pain attack.

For that ball which weighed as lead, would leave lace imprints, thighs and head.

To bend like Beckham or make it dip, you’d need steel legs and an iron hip.

With boots that deep sea divers compare, make modern feet like walk on air.

But still these gents would run forever, pride in team and work together.

The same in representing country, no thoughts of gain in terms of monetary.

Just proud to wear their national shirt, give their all and never shirk.

Football was their life it’s true, but earn a wage they’d still to do.

Plumbers, builders, factories, tills, all to pay the family bills.

The stars today have no such lives and thousands pounds a weekly rise.

Can this be right when crowds who pay, struggle living day to day.

Ticket price from fans extort, despite recession they still support

This loyal passion, don’t revoke, but football’s wages are a joke.