KingFish Tales

'Twas the night before Draft day!

'Twas the night before Draft day, when all through the house
not a creature was clicking, not even a mouse;
the monitor shone brightly next to the big chair,
In hopes that the Draft soon would be there;

The owners were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of A-Rod danced in their heads;
And mamma in her Teddy, and I in my jock,
Had just settled down for a long, long talk.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw out my stash!

The moon on her breasts were all aglow
Gave the luster of mid-day to my object below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a good old John Kruk and eight frosty players.

“Now, Unit! Now, Sammy! Now Bonds and Chipper!
On, Pedro! On Schilling! On, Sheffield and Jeter!
To the top of the league! To the top of the hill!
Now dash away! Dash away! To clean up the spills!”

And then, in a twinkling, I heard the next bid
the prancing and pawing for each qualified mid.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
down the alley John Kruk came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his face,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and mace;
A bundle of sleepers he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the JT Snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like pitcher in relief;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Philly,
And I laughed when I saw him, I knew it was silly;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Without a single closer I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the lineups; then turned with a jerk,
And placed his finger inside his nose,
And giving a nod, up the standings we rose;

He sprang to his VW, to his team gave a big hug,
And away they all flew a team of big thugs.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY DRAFT DAY TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"

The above of course is a direct take-off from the much beloved Xmas poem. I’ve spliced in a few of the games active names but at the time I originally wrote the piece there were many others. The memories are good!