Merry Christmas to all

’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the gyms,
All was quiet, except for those fanatics up for runs, lifts or swims;
 
The stockings were hung near the mantel with pegs,
But not too high for I do not have long legs;
 
Most student-athletes were dozing in their beds,
While dreams of state championships filled their heads;
 
We don’t own a ’kerchief but I could have used a nap,
My head still pounding from student sections’ cheers and claps;
 
Then outside I thought I heard a splatter,
Did that blob in the red suit somehow get fatter?
 
Away to the window I sluggishly tread,
This better be worth it, I got out of bed;
 
Griswold-like lights illuminated the scene below,
I gotta shovel those forecasted “flurries” of snow;

There’s our recycling bin packed with debris,
Hope it’s emptied before wind sends it out of the galaxy;
 
Then what to my fatigued eyes did I make out,
98 delivery trucks hastily buzzing about;

But there was something else, I had a hunch,
It was Santa Claus himself and his jolly bunch;
 
Over the trucks’ engines I could clearly hear;
“We’re Bucks’ fans too, don’t fear these deer;”
 
On the top of our house they landed with a thud,
Santa’s healthy New Year’s resolution again was a dud;
 
In the fireplace he soon appeared in his glory,
That’s odd — we have no chimney and our house has one story;
 
Nonetheless, he brought a big sack,
His pupils widened as he eyed up a snack;
 
Pizza, cheese, crackers and chips of all sorts,
Sustenance for writers staying up late to cover sports;
 
He dove right in and devoured the array,
Attacked my leftovers like a baboon at a buffet;
 
A dilemma developed as I stood and stared,
I glanced at the fireplace ­— how’d he fit through there?

His girth was so great he tripped over my chair that reclines,
“This,” Santa warned, “stays out of the headlines.”
 
He laid a punctuation and grammar book by our Nativity Scene’s manger,
I turned to our smiling shepherd hound, “Go bite the stranger.”
 
Santa just laughed, but I said that’s not funny,
“That’s the same thing I got from the Easter Bunny;”
 
“You should wish for more,” he said, “like on other stops I make tonight,
They ask to be faster, bigger and for more might;
 
They’re just happy to practice again after academics,
Their passion to play compounded during the pandemic;
 
From the Rocket launch pad they aim to soar,
Winning often but never satisfied, always striving for more;
 
They’re small but mighty and have big hearts,
When the Warriors come together they set themselves apart;
 
They’re eager to learn to tackle and block,
So Black Hawks too can pound the rock;
 
They sing their school song to supportive teen fans,
Wave the Pirate flag, then clap their hands;
 
They want to win, come through in the clutch,
Whether they’re German, Irish, Luxembourgish or Dutch;
 
Some play at colleges, even for Bucky,
Athletics at another level, so few are so lucky;
 
They’ve got the ability, know how to field and throw,
A tiny percentage even go pro;
 
The competition is great but so are the quips,
Memories are often made on long bus trips;
 
Coaches teach them team before me,
Make them better players than they thought they could be;”
 
As Santa left, he said, “Go Ozaukee, Grafton, Cedar Grove-Belgium and Port,
Happy Christmas to all, and
    good luck in every sport.”

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Ozaukee Press

Wisconsin’s largest paid circulation community weekly newspaper. Serving Port Washington, Saukville, Grafton, Fredonia, Belgium, as well as Ozaukee County government. Locally owned and printed in Port Washington, Wisconsin.

125 E. Main St.
Port Washington, WI 53074
(262) 284-3494
 

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