‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Jay Street,
only one room mate stirred, fearing defeat .
The Patriots jersey was draped over the bed with care,
In hope the Pats would win. But there was a fantasy scare.
The rest of the league, was still hungover in their beds,
While visions of Staffords and Newtons danced in their heads.
And Luke in his Pats pajamas, and I staring into the light
Wondering if today could possibly be the day of surprise Urlacher fight.
When out of my phone arose such a sound,
I sprang from my bed, and reached for it on the ground.
Felix Jones is questionable, was written bleakly.
And I looked at my other running backs, feeling quite meekly.
Now, Gerhart. (or) Now, Bell, Stafford or Newton
On Detroit D, On Williams, On Green(?), On Rice and Bryant!
Get twenty points, get more, get thirty! Go on!
You all need these wins, before Tuesdays dawn.
I spring to my computer, change the line-up five times.
And procrastinate finilazing it, by creating ridiculous rhymes.
But tomorrow begins a new season of NBA delight.
So Happy Christmas, even if for the Jay Street Elite it is good night.
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