Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the stands
Not a person was cheering, not one single fan.
They all held their breath in the brisk night air,
And wondered if Santa would bypass them this year.
Their faces were painted all silver and blue,
With streaks of flesh-color from a stray tear or two.
And mom in her Nine jersey, and me in my cap,
Hoped our team would not go for that long winterÆs nap.
When out on the lawn I heard the snow splatter
And sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should ...
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Article written by Gene Strother