A great Christmas poem

'Twas the day before Christmas, when all through the Nation,

We were happy for ‘Tek, but worried about the rotation;

Randy in pinstripes? That deal fell through,

But Pedro went walking to the orange and blue



Schill was nestled online, reading a thread,
While thoughts of ripping Petey a new one danced in his head;

But then he looked at his “2004 World Series Champions” cap,

And forgot about the Met and his mouth that yap-yaps



When out on the ‘net there arose such a clatter,

Who was getting away? Now what’s the matter?

Typing on boards fingers flew like a flash

Like when Tony Soprano slips his girlfriends the cash



And on some dot com I got such a blow,
They were reporting “RJ to NY” is finally a go;
He’s #1 for the Yanks, or so I feared,
But wait – it was on ESPN, and the report was unclear



Now Curt’s on the shelf, no more blood in his socks,
And D-Lowe is home playing with his mental blocks;
Our starters are gone! Who is to blame?
Who are these new guys? What are their names?



“Now, Boomer! now, Miller! now, Clement and Halama!
On, Mantei! plus Payton! and Vazquez and Edgar!
A whole new clubhouse! GM made the call!
Free agents dash away! dash away! dash away all!”



But Theo went to the Wells and a Cub named Clement;
Have faith in our genius, it’s money well spent;
And now we’ve got Miller, the second best Wade,
in the history of Boston (so his labrum’s a little frayed)



And then, in a twinkling, he was back on the mound,

The prancing and pawing of the new top throwing hound,

Laying his finger aside of the seam,

He gave ‘Tek the nod, an almost impossible dream;



He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

He went into his windup; then turned with a jerk,

As he threw out his hand, and was coming around,

Down towards home plate, the ball took off with a bound;



He threw like the old days, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment, Schill was no longer sick;
His heater’s mid-nineties, the splitter has bite,
Let’s mark him down for eight innings a night!



More rapid than eagles came the Opening Day game,

Up went The Flag, the Yanks looked ashamed;
Jason threw out base stealers, Manny’s long drives lit the sky,

Papi had the old stroke back, when he hit ‘em, they fly



I sprang to my feet, to the team gave a whistle,

They circled the bases, Schilling threw another missile;

The good times were back for our championship ballclub,

"LET’S GO BACK-TO-BACK, MORE PENNANT FEVER GRIPS HUB"