‘Twas the Night Before Cubsmas

‘Twas the night before Cubsmas, you know about that,
Not a creature was stirring, not even the rats;
Stirrups were hung in the clubhouse with care,
In hopes that spring training soon would be there;
The prospects were snuggled on various lists
With visions of coffee mugs held in their fists;
And I with my labor of love never slog,
As I’m covering my team in this little web log;
When all across Cubdom the news hit on Twitter,
That the team had just signed a mid-level hitter;
Out to the bleachers, I flew like a dart,
Then paused to catch my breath and stifle a fart;
The LED lights from the jumbotron’s glow,
Cast their ‘lectronic shine on dead ivy below;
When what to my rose-colored eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh filled with pricey craft beer;
With two little drivers it needn’t be said,
I knew in a moment Saints Carter and Jed;
You could tell from the caution exercised in their flying,
And carefully-worded statements that make you think they are lying;
We’ll build you a winner, we’re not just spinning our wheels
By kicking the tires and doing minor league deals.
To the top of the basket! The top of the wall!
Now mash away! Mash away! Mash away, all!
As gulls that within the cool lake breeze do fly,
When they meet with an outfielder, mount to the sky;
So up to the rooftops the Cubbies they flew,
With a sleigh full of beer, and the front office too;
And then, in an instant, I heard from my seat,
The stomping and scratching of each little cleat;
As I sipped my brew and was looking around,
Up the ivy Saint Jed came with a bound;
He was dressed for the weather, his sweater a must,
But his clothes were not tarnished by dirt or chalk dust;
Bundles of prospects he had flung on his back,
And he hugged them all tight as he opened his pack;
PCA–how he sparkled! His glove was so new!
And Kevin Alcantara was there with him too!
And there was Cade Horton getting ready to toss,
If he’s this good in June, we’ll have nary a loss;
While everyone spoke, Saint Jed his lip bit,
Though I could tell in his mind, he was still spanking it;
Then came Jordan Wicks, all youthful and stout,
Took a look at the runner before striking a batter out;
‘Twas a scene from a movie, like Die Hard or Elf,
And I smiled when I saw it, in spite of myself;
But a wink from Jed Hoyer, and a nod of his head,
Soon let me know to let go of my dread;
He spoke not a word, but went back to his rebuild,
With scores of fans still not feeling fulfilled;
He may whiff on free agents again and again,
While pursuing another big World Series win;
Then he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they flew, like a batted-ball missile;
But I heard them exclaim, I swear I did, bro,
“Take me out to the ballgame, and go, Cubs, go!”

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