‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

We’re finally ready for Cavs-Dubs rematch // this is a game you’ll surely want to catch!

(Read to the tune of the The Fresh Prince of Bel Air song)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ‘Land Not a creature was stirring, not even Birdman.

The banner was hung from the rafters with care, In hopes that LeBron soon would be there.

The Warriors were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of easy rings danced in their heads.

And Steph in his kerchief, KD in a wrap, Had just signed extensions, gone over the cap.

When down at the Q, there arose such a clatter, Brian Windhorst sprang forth to see what was the matter.

Away to the locker room, he flew like a flash, Gathering his notes like a bundle of cash.

When what to his Windhorsting eyes should appear, But a miniature Felder, fourteen teammates near.

With a muscular captain, so ripped and so strong, He knew in a moment — it must be LeBron.

More rapid than warriors, his teammates they came, And he tweeted and Insta’d and called them by name:

“Now, Kyrie! Now, Kevin! Tristan and R.J.! On Channing, on J.R.! On Shump and McRae!

We’re going to win! We will beat them all! Now trust me, I got this, pass me the damn ball!”

So out on the court, his teammates they flew, A banana boat full of boys — and of course Tyronn Lue.

And then in a twinkling, I heard from the gate The dinking and dunking of each Cavs teammate.

As I drew in my head and was turning around, Down the tunnel LeBron came with a bound.

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his feet, With his Ultimate Warrior shirt tucked underneath.

The city of Cleveland he carried on his back, The whole town remembering the record comeback.

His eyes, how they twinkled! His muscles so strong, His legs built like tree trunks, firm all the day long.

His focus so sure and his instincts divine, His headband still covering a missing hairline.

His mouthpiece still hung at the edge of his teeth, A subtle, clear taunt at Steph Curry beneath.

He had a scowl on his face, and a little round belly, Almost made me forget just how much I hated Delly.

Then he called Draymond Green a chubby old elf, And I laughed when Dray kicked him, in spite of myself.

But a wink of LeBron’s eye and a twist of his head Soon left me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled up the box score, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his face, He took up the ball and finished laying waste.

He cheered with his team, knowing they’d saved the sport, And away they all flew, and stormed right off the court.

But I heard him exclaim, as he ran out of sight: THE WARRIORS BLEW A 3–1 LEAD — and to all a good night!

An adaptation of Clement Moore’s “A Visit from St. Nicholas”