A Christmas Eve tale
With apologies to Clement Moore, my attempt of an updated version of his classic poem, “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” or as the poem is more commonly known, “Twas the Night Before Christmas.”
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the National Football League,
Officials, in the booth and on the field, were preparing for the busy day’s intrigue,
AB’s football stocking was hung by the chimney with care,
Replaced by support hose and a little prayer,
Steeler Nation was safely tucked away in their beds,
With visions of the Lombardi Trophy gleaming in their heads,
A restless night of sleep it would be,
With a big road game in Houston to be viewed on the new big screeen TV,
Mamma in her Big Ben nightshirt and I in my Steeler PJs,
Resting up for the big NFL day.
The sleep was distracted, with concerns about Pittsburgh teams,
Whether the Steelers would win or will the Pens regain their Stanley Cup steam,
The children were antsy, as young ones will be,
Waiting to see what gifts Santa left under the tree.
Light from the crescent moon slipped through the clouds,
Shielding Santa’s sleigh like a finely-made linen shroud,
When down the stairs there arose such a clatter,
I bounded from bed to see what was the matter,
It was just the cat again, climbing the tree,
Knocking heirloom glass bulbs from the branches, despite my plea,
The kids bounced down the steps after they heard such a clatter,
Wondering in glee, whatever could be the matter,
Just the cat again, I said, as the feline sped away,
Disapponted, the children sleepily returned to their beds with nothing to say,
I grabbed a dustpan and clicked on the set,
As I swept up the handiwork of our favorite family pet,
Lo, what to my wondering eyes came into view,
No, not Santa sliding down the chimney flue,
But, instead the NFL Network’s replay of games past,
And the Patriots’ contest came into focus on the pixeled glass.
The image startled me and I fell back,
Uttering sounds reminiscent of a hungry yak (Sorry, I apologize for that rhyme),
There was Tom Brady, bigger than life,
My blood began to boil as he came into sight,
Hit him! Hit him! I screamed at the set,
My voice roaring like the engines of an Blue Angels jet,
The game apparently distracted my line of sight,
For when I calmed down I espied the red-coated sprite,
He didn’t speak, just gave a wink,
And before I knew it, Santa was gone in a blink.
Despite the noise, the family did not awake,
So I tiptoed up the stairs after I ate Santa’s cake,
The bedroom door flew open, I had barely shut my lids,
Get up! Get up! yelled the excited kids,
I dragged myself out of bed, careful not to disturb the cat,
Because the precious feline was sleeping on a mound of soft hats.
Christmas Day proceeded along, as in years gone bye,
With gifts, food, and desert, even pumpkin pie,
With the family in the other room, I settled in,
Getting ready for the game, away from the din,
The kicker approached the tee, the ball was away,
Time for the Steelers to keep the Texans at bay,
A win was key to secure home field advantage,
Especially with several key Steelers wrapped in a bandage.
But, no matter the outcome, just have lots of fun, enjoy with delight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
Merry Christmas from the staff of the Herald-Standard sports department. May the Steelers present (against Houston) exorcise the frustration of Steelers past (the Patriots’ game) with a win in Houston!