‘Twas the night before Rasmus, when all through the dome
Not an executive was stirring, not even a phone;
The stockings were hung by the Windows with care,
In hopes that GM Alex soon would be there;
The fans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of our new players danced in their heads;
And mamma in her jersey, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long off-season nap,
When out on the turf there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the hotel to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains and threw up the sash.
The lights on the breast of the new-laid turf
Gave the lustre of mid-day and 1 pm game births,
When, what to my wondering eyes should guide,
But a revamped roster, and eight players with pride,
With a young, clever driver, so lively and prosperous,
I knew in a moment it must be Anthopoulos.
More silent than ninjas his players they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Dickey! Now, Reyes! Now, Johnson and Buehrle!
On, Bonifacio! On Izturis! On, Thole and Rogers!
To the top of the mound! To the top of the wall!
Now run amuck! Run amuck! Run amuck all!”
From Rogers it was said, the budget was blown,
Who cares really, lest we have no crown
So up to the dome-top the players they flew,
With the sleigh full of dollars, and GM Alex too.
And then, in a jest, I laughed to a folly
At all the teams that are sayin’, oh shit, ah golly.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the elevator GM Alex came with a bound.
He was dressed in Armani, from his head to his toe,
And his clothes were all luxuriant with buttons of gold;
A bundle of gifts he had, escaped any jeers,
And he looked like a dealer, just swindled his peers.
His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His gleaming white teeth glistened for the press,
And the smirk of his mouth formed a large crest;
The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was quick and witty, a knowledgeable young man,
And I applauded when I saw him, as would any fan;
A wink of his eye showed he had no fear,
Soon gave me to know I had plenty to cheer;
He spoke of hope, of playoffs, to hell with his plan,
Acquired a few all-stars; hired back his man,
And laying his finger aside of his guise,
And giving a nod, up the division they’ll rise;
He sprang to his players, to his team gave a bustle,
And away they all flew to steal second with hustle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he sprinted out of sight,
“Happy Rasmus to all, and to all a good-night.”