These Modern Celebrations: Poem by DM W

These modern celebrations are so bizarre:
What with all the contrived hysteria;
What with players ripping their shirts off
And flexing their million dollar muscles
To thousands of baying, frenzied football fans
Are they in line for Hollywood movie deals?
Or are they merely preening peacocks
That are here today and gone tomorrow?
Alas this narcissistic age appears
To have no limits. Anything goes.
I prefer Bobby Moore's joyous,
Yet measured response when he proudly
Held the gleaming Jules Rimet trophy aloft.
In the golden, sun drenched year of 1966.
It was understated and so dignified,
And infinitely more civilised.