'Twas the Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Nation,
Finger pointing, frustration… the Mike Lowell situation;
Our Red Stockings were hung by the Yankees last year,
Now Cashman’s wheeling and dealing for a repeat title next year;
Theo Epstein was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of low risk, short-term deals danced in his head;
Werner in his ascot, and Lucchino in his Hanging Sox cap,
Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the ice there arose such a clatter,
Public skating today?… Did a scalper’s wallet get fatter?
Away to Yawkey Way we flew like a flash,
Tore open the gates, …then we heard a big crash.
The Citgo sign on the crust of a 4-day-old snow,
Gave luster to the fallen object by the blue line below,
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
John Henry, with skates on, but sprawled out toe to ear,
Watching was his young wife, so lively and slick,
We knew in a moment, Henry tripped on his stick.
Less rapid than a Zamboni, he called them by name,
John whistled, and whispered, he wanted the Bruins to start a game:
"Now, Wheeler! now, Ryder! now, Krejci and Recchi!
On, Wideman! on, Begin! on, Chara, put Bitz in!
To the center ice line! And let’s see a good brawl,
Now dash away! I’ve got cash to make! Slash away all!
So how ‘bout those Red Sox, will Lackey win the Cy?
And have you seen his wife Kristin? John must be quite the guy;
But who’ll start at first base? Who’s our new guy at third?
Will we miss Jason Bay? Should we give his agent the bird?
And then in a twinkling, we heard a fan screaming
At his prancing and pawing, she thought she was dreaming.
As she drew in her head, and was turning around,
Down the runway our new first baseman came with a bound.
His hair was so long, it grew over a foot,
And his jersey was dirty with pine tar and soot;
His old No. 18 was stamped on his back,
He bought it off Dice-K as soon as he unpacked.
His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard was back on his chin don’t cha know;
Then next spring in Ft. Myers, with his deal signed and sealed,
With new sunglasses on, he strolled out on the field;
He takes off his shirt, the girls start to scream,
He smiles just like Johnny, a pink hat fan’s dream.
He spoke to the media, and went straight to his work,
He went into the cage; he worked on a quirk;
Then he turned on a ball, his arms coming around,
a loud crack of the bat, the ball took off with a bound;
It’s our old friend Johnny, Damon’s bat was so quick,
Balls lined one by one, looks like he's made out of brick
He was signed for three years, Theo finally had to bite,
To bring back the ’04 spirit, we’ll see The Idiot every night!
And there stood Matsuzaka, finally fit and trim,
The $103.1 million treasure found his way to the gym;
Cam showed up early and looked ready to play,
He won’t make us forget Manny, he’s a fan of the K.
And then just like before, Ortiz made the ball fly,
Dustin grinded away, Youk hit hard line drives;
With Jacoby in center, And Marco at short,
They're fine up the middle, still need run support;
J.D. had the old stroke back, when he hit ‘em they flew,
They all batted around, Varitek too!
The crowd sprang to their feet, to the team gave a whistle,
V-Mart circled the bases, Lester threw another missile;
A new year is upon us and our Olde Towne ballclub,
"WHO NEEDS ADRIAN GONZALEZ! PENNANT FEVER STILL GRIPS HUB!"
...with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore and Henry Livingston, Jr.
Merry Christmas, Boston Dirt Dogs