'Twas the week before Christmas and all throughout Lilly
Not a creature was working, not even Geselly!
The trio of SRUs failed to be thrashed
And all the league moaned, and they wailed and they gnashed,
And though they were not in the Toilet Bowl swimmin'
The season was lost for the vegetable women!
And all through the year they had infrequent glee
And seemed to be going to the place where we pee,
And finished the season by losing ten straight,
But avoided the blue water they're growing to hate.
But unlike for Gonzo and evil pal Valerie,
The Bag's bowl is filled with what used to be celerie.
But even worse off yet is Mike and is Stu
The duo that's always in water so blue.
The season long struggles by speechless po-Taters
Has rendered them nothing but playoff spectators.
Gesellchens were buried well down in last place
But managed to stave off that utter disgrace.
They sit back and cower and stutter and flinch,
Surrendering meekly to the holiday grinch
And missing the trip to the holiday ball
By getting a win total three sizes too small.
Ostracized joins in the yule celebration
And hopes to score points and cause great consternation
To spuds that lack focus and proper attention
To detail (and also to social convention).
And avian streakers of discolored measure
Will vie with the toy boys for FFL treasure.
But enough of these strange serendipitous teams!
On to the folks without championship dreams!!!
We'd just lain our heads down upon our soft pillows
When started a whisper, like wind through the willows,
That grew to a rumble, and then to a roar,
We trembled in fear of what lay 'hind the door.
I hid in the bedroom and Dawn in the hall
For lurking outside were two guys with blue balls.
We knew that this duo, their hearts filled with treason,
They'd come to wreak havoc this holiday season.
I quaked 'neath the sheets, my legs they did crumble
As cautiously out of my bed I did tumble.
The tinsel and ornaments gleamed in the night
But mirth there was none - only terrible fright.
The door I threw open and shouted, "Oh HO!!"
But no one was there but the newfallen snow…
I looked up and looked down, to the left and the right,
But yet the foul creatures were nowhere in sight.
I turned on my heels, still as quiet as a mouse,
For Dawn had just said, "Hey! They're up on the house!"
"The chimney!" I thought, as I rushed back inside,
And once there a horrible visage I spied,
A jovial man dressed in white and in red,
A Volunteers hat he did perch on his head.
But what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an impish old elf standing just to the rear!
So grimly they stood there, they laughed and they snorted,
And 'round us the horrible duo cavorted.
We knew they were dang'rous, we knew they were raging
We knew not to trust their demeanor engaging.
But hark! On the lawn there arose such a clatter
That I crapped on myself (Brooksie emptied her bladder!)
A grisly third Santa now lurched towards ourselves
Joining Tillie and Bevers, those jolly old elves,
To stab their small voodoo, to curse us so crude
To mock us with language unspeakably rude.
'Twas bad to lose games to two football outsiders,
But now were we destined to lose to JEFF CHIDA?!?
I scarcely could think it, yet 'twas in my mind stuck
To lose to this trio, well that would quite suck!
They challenged us early; that week they did stick
A fork in our season, our butts they did kick.
We stood in our tracks there, no fear did we show,
And threatened to throw their balls out in the snow.
Reminders they gave us of weekly scores past,
And fear of their prowess did well in us fast.
We taunted them one time, then two times, then thrice!
And gave them a steely glare frigid as ice.
We showed them our roster and record and said,
"Just when will it get through your azure-balled head?
We are the true champions, both past and for now,
We'll prove once again that we deftly know how
To draft and to trade and to play the right man!"
(A lie, but all part of our horrible plan…)
The two of them chuckled, those horrific sillies
And showed us the power of Bevers and Tillies.
They lifted their jackets and threw down their shorts
And bade us to gaze at their balls -- not for sports.
"They're BLUE" Brooksie cried, and over she fainted
(I was certain these testicles were merely hand-painted)
The story they told me - of balls made of brass
That gave them the confidence to kick commish…butt
The color, they claimed, was from being so "gifted"
That they dragged in the snow unless they were lifted.
I snickered and laughed at their testicles shiny
For brass though they were, they were also so tiny!
The evil Claus thundered the room as he spake
And Brooksie and I in our shoes we did quake
He called in their henchmen, that terrible elf
And once more did Rito besoil himself!
In from the fireplace, all covered in ashes
Came forth Ricky Watters - the purveyor of dashes
That each of the last several weeks he did score.
Surely there couldn't be anyone more?
The QB was local, yet few can throw quicker
And just for good measure a really good kicker,
Plentiful scores from near all their receivers -
These sights had created a pair of believers
In the power of Ballers and all of their might,
Could leave us all bloodied and battered tonight!
We turned 'round to face them, the battle was ours --
The trio would surely succumb to our powers.
So bravely we stood in the glow of the tree,
And stared down our foes, both the doctor and me.
We readied our troops for the year's final game
And called out our bounteous scorers by name:
"On Robert! On Charlie! On Mushy and Randy!"
Their prowess was certainly more than just dandy
"On Jason! On Terrell! On Kurt and on Elvis!"
These men would most surely kick Ted near his pelvis
(But missing for some inexplicable reason,
Was Ricky, the bullish and gimpy reindeer,
Whose mission was now undeniably clear:
He got us this far, now he'll cheer and he'll rest
And see if his helpers could stand for the test.)
We circled the Ballers, we growled and we swore,
And yet, 'twas as if we'd seen this sight before…
(Of course! In week 'leven we made the boys grin
By folding our tents up and packing it in!)
This threesome did win the divisional prize,
But, like us, endured a most bitter demise.
I pulled from my pocket the one little thing
For which we each sought - the championship ring!
The winners' fine prize left us dazzled and dazed,
The Blue Ballers and we were most truly amazed.
By charity givings and the role we took in it
And the warm Christmas feeling engulfed us that minute.
We shook hands and parted as foes most respected…
But alas! Our blind craniums were most unprotected!
A sucker punch shot left me bloody and reeling,
And quickly removed from the holiday feeling
I turned and prepared for the year's final fight…
And thus I awoke with a start in the night.
As in all the years past, it was all but a dream,
And now to get on with selecting our team.
I dream of a time when we ruled the postseason
(Perhaps the two gallons or bourbon the reason…)
And yet as I sat there all warm in my bed,
I think that it surely ain't all in my head,
And lo as I look at my wee Christmas tree
I wonder if Tillie is dreaming of me…
As last year, I send along this humble wish:
Peace, love and joy from your favorite commish.
Regardless of faith or religious persuasion
I hope you all have a fine winter vacation.
As we make an effort to make some lives sunny,
By giving ourselves of this charity money,
The this is the spirit, this is the true reason,
For smiling and laughing this holiday season.
So cancer and other diseases be ended,
So puppies and children and rights be defended,
To help out a mission or even for D.A.R.E.
Our generous tidings will show them we care.
Thanks for the good times, the fun and the cheer!
Merry Christmas to all - and I'll see you next year!!