'Twas the Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Nation
On went the neverending World Series title celebration;
Our Red Stockings went bottom-to-top in one year
So Larry raised ticket prices and heard the Bronx cheer
Ben Cherington was nestled all snug in his bed,
Dreaming of one year deals for under $9 million a head;
And Werner in his ascot, and Henry's mind on The Globe,
Because turning around a newspaper requires the patience of Job
When out on the web there arose such a clatter,
Did the Sox make a deal? 500 re-tweets on the matter,
Away to Fenway we flew in a dash,
Tore open the laptop, camera ready to flash
Who's breaking the story? Who's the source in the know?
Has Middlebrooks been traded? And will Jenny Dell go?
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But our old friend Big Papi, with a smile ear-to-ear
“It's not about the money!” He shouted dressed like St. Nick
We knew in a moment, he was using Mo Vaughn's cheap trick
More rapid than Ells bolting, he started laying his claim
Papi whistled, and shouted, he called other players by name!
"Now Choo! now, Cano! now, Ellsbury and Ethier!
Yes, Beltre! Yes, Beltran! Bautista and Fielder!
I want a new deal! My OPS is higher than them all!
He's not worried what the fans will think of his gall
They'll cheer Papi at Fenway, and when he's gone they'll cry
And while you are reading this, Ben signed another “nice guy”
It's a team full of dirt dogs sans the brother of J.D. Drew
But there's still enough horses, and there's plenty of glue
And then, in a twinkling, he strolled to the mound,
The prancing and pawing of this hard throwing hound,
Laying his long finger aside of the seam
He stares just like a closer… this was not a dream
He spoke Japanese, and went straight to his work,
He went into his windup; then he turned with a jerk,
As he threw out his hand, and was coming around,
Down toward home plate, the ball took off with a bound;
He threw like the old Koji with the oversized mitt,
And a dropoff split that's nearly impossible to hit;
His heater's mid-90s, the changeup has bite,
He'll pick up a save every other night!
And Lester and Buchholz came in focused and healthy
Lackey's ready to roll, and thanks to Theo he's wealthy
Dustin's banged up already; Shane wore a GoPro you say?
A.J.'s the new backstop, Bogaerts is ready to play
Nap's staying in Boston, he was such a good buy
No more stars on the payroll, but it remains sky high
Ortiz had the old stroke back, when he hit 'em they flew,
Everyone batted around, Jackie Bradley Jr., too!
The crowd sprang to their feet, to the team gave a whistle,
Gomes circled the bases, Tazawa threw another missile;
A new year is upon us and the Olde Towne ballclub,
"Let's go back to back! PENNANT FEVER GRIPS HUB!"
...with apologies as always to Clement Clarke Moore and Henry Livingston, Jr.
Merry Christmas, Boston Dirt Dogs