Thu 18 Dec 2008
Nothing is more precious than the holidays here at Food Court Lunch. That’s why we’ve taken this classic Christmas poem and updated it by seemlessly incorporating contemporary sports references that the kids will be able to appreciate. See if you can catch where we’ve made changes!
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even Ed Werder, whose sources tell him Jason Witten was spotted doing Tony Romo’s nails in the Cowboys clubhouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in the hopes that Charlie Weis would somehow be able to reconcile with Touchdown Jesus and return Notre Dame to respectability.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of A.J. Burnett living up to his new contract with the Yankees danced in their heads.
And mamma in her pink Red Sox jersey, and I in my clubbing sweatpants,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and saw Sean Avery being severely beaten and then run over by successive celebrity ex-girlfriends.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of brand new 22’s to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a brand new Hummer H2 with custom ground effects package, and eight hangers-on.
With a massive old driver, so surly and portly, I knew in a moment it must be Hall of famer Charles Barkley.
More vapid than ever his cronies they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Kenny! now, Ernie! now, Michael and Hakeem!
On, Pork Chops! On, Chowder! on Souvlaki and Ice Cream!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now make inflammatory statements about the state of the game today in order to give the appearance of controversy!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Official WNBA Merchandise, and a Whizzinator too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Charles Barkley broke through the rafters and landed on a grandfather clock, destroying it in the process.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with rib sauce and sprinkles.
A bundle of casino markers he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
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 his chins resembled a flesh accordian.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly [id.]!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I was in for the worst poker game of my life.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, he filled his sack with everything in our refrigerator.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like some unholy cabal of caricatures of the NBA’s glory days.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Alabama has a problem with black people!”
Happy Holidays from your friends at Food Court Lunch!