'Twas the Draft Before Christmas'
Posted: Sat Dec 09, 2017 8:48 pm
A fantasy spin....
'Twas the night before the Christmas Draft when all through the house;
Only one one thing was stirring, my computer mouse,
My draft picks were listed in order with special care;
In hopes that the drafter on the clock would soon be there.
The kids were snuggled each in their bed;
Me? I had dreams of Trout and Kershaw dancing in my head,
Mama in her 'kerchief and I in my Yankees hat;
Her with coffee, me looking at a last minute stat.
When on the computer, there arose such a clatter;
I ran in from the kitchen to see what was the matter,
Away to the computer, I flew like a flash;
And refreshed the window at the end of my dash.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear;
An emboldened post from Mike the Mouth so near.
His prose so lively, so loud, and so quick,
I knew that Greg would think, 'Man, what a dick';
More rapid than eagles his posts flew,
I was enthralled, but I had a draft to do!
Now Harper, Now Lester, Now Seager, and Britton,
On Trout! On Kluber! On Hosmer! And Stanton!
To the top of my queue, to the top of my scrawl,
On the base, on the mound, dash away, dash away all!
My pick was known and my eyes couldn't help but twinkle
First pick! First pick! No curve ball thrown, no wrinkle,
I conjured in my mind, a picture of Mike Trout's face;
Mama! Mama! This is the year! The year I finish in first place!
As soon as the clock started, I hurriedly struck the key.
But wait, wait, what is this I see?
In my hurry and in my haste,
I didn't see Trout drafted. Oh what a waste!
It wasn't Maikel Franco or even Anthony Rendon,
It was Fat Bart! It was Bartolo Colon!
His picture on my screen showed a round face and big belly,
Laughing at me, it shook like a big bowl of jelly;
He sprung to the top of my roster with glee.
"Of all the players, of all the players,he picked Me!"
I had to admit, his smiling face on my screen made mine smile too,
I had made his day, but my team, oh my team was probably poo;
And I heard him exclaim, cookies in his hand to bite,
"You have 49 more picks, my friend, try, oh try, to get those right!"
'Twas the night before the Christmas Draft when all through the house;
Only one one thing was stirring, my computer mouse,
My draft picks were listed in order with special care;
In hopes that the drafter on the clock would soon be there.
The kids were snuggled each in their bed;
Me? I had dreams of Trout and Kershaw dancing in my head,
Mama in her 'kerchief and I in my Yankees hat;
Her with coffee, me looking at a last minute stat.
When on the computer, there arose such a clatter;
I ran in from the kitchen to see what was the matter,
Away to the computer, I flew like a flash;
And refreshed the window at the end of my dash.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear;
An emboldened post from Mike the Mouth so near.
His prose so lively, so loud, and so quick,
I knew that Greg would think, 'Man, what a dick';
More rapid than eagles his posts flew,
I was enthralled, but I had a draft to do!
Now Harper, Now Lester, Now Seager, and Britton,
On Trout! On Kluber! On Hosmer! And Stanton!
To the top of my queue, to the top of my scrawl,
On the base, on the mound, dash away, dash away all!
My pick was known and my eyes couldn't help but twinkle
First pick! First pick! No curve ball thrown, no wrinkle,
I conjured in my mind, a picture of Mike Trout's face;
Mama! Mama! This is the year! The year I finish in first place!
As soon as the clock started, I hurriedly struck the key.
But wait, wait, what is this I see?
In my hurry and in my haste,
I didn't see Trout drafted. Oh what a waste!
It wasn't Maikel Franco or even Anthony Rendon,
It was Fat Bart! It was Bartolo Colon!
His picture on my screen showed a round face and big belly,
Laughing at me, it shook like a big bowl of jelly;
He sprung to the top of my roster with glee.
"Of all the players, of all the players,he picked Me!"
I had to admit, his smiling face on my screen made mine smile too,
I had made his day, but my team, oh my team was probably poo;
And I heard him exclaim, cookies in his hand to bite,
"You have 49 more picks, my friend, try, oh try, to get those right!"
The Greg verse about thinking me a dick was classic. Ah, in jest there is truth! Great stuff,