Sunday, December 23, 2007

Happy Holidays From Keep Your Sox On!

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except for Curt Schilling calling out Roger Clemens in his blog;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Johan Santana soon would be there (but please don't trade Ellsbury);

Red Sox Nation was nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of future championships danced in their heads;

And Hazel Mae in her 'kerchief, and Jerry Remy in his cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Jerry sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash (making sure not to knock over Wally).

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight championship pitchers in the guise of reindeer ("Nahmally," he thought "you don't see pitchers playing reindeeah"),

With a young driver, so lively and quick,
He knew in a moment it must be St. Theo.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Wakefield! now, Beckett! now, Matsuzaka and Okajima!
On, Papelbon (and your overeager dog)! on Delcarmen! on, Tavarez and Timlin!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the Green Monster!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

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 rings, and Theo Epstein too.

And then, in a twinkling, Jerry heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each pitching foot.

As Jerry drew in his hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Theo came with a bound.

He was dressed in slacks and button down shirt from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of player development profiles he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

And Jerry laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself;
A wink of Theo's eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave Jerry to know he had nothing to dread;

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, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But Jerry heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Hot Stove to all, and to all a good-night."