Twas the night before Christmas in Foxboro

By Sterling Pingree

 

 

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Gillette
Not a creature was stirring, not a Microsoft tablet.
The jockstraps were hung on the chalk board with care,
Kraft hoped St. Gronkowski soon would be there.

The Patriots were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Super Bowls danced in their heads.
And Bill in his hoodie and Tom is his winter cap,
Had just settled in for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the Twitter there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my phone to see what was the matter.
Where at wide receiver we had such a void,

Adam Schefter tweets, the Pats signed Michael Floyd.

The Jets on the schedule and no chance of snow
The wind could be blustery and temps Zero or below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Patriots defense in a contract year.

With little slot receivers, so lively and fleet,
I knew in a moment the offense complete.
More rapid than the Jets his coursers they came,
Bill he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now, Edelman! now, Mitchell! now, Bennett and Hogan!
On, White! On, Lewis! on, Blount and Develin!
To the top of the light house! to defend the wall!
Now smash away! smash away! smash away all!”

When Gostowski kicked liked the wild hurricane glide,
When the ball now sails, it never goes wide
So up to the owners box they all knew it true
With Brady surrounded by toys, the confidence did grew.
And then, on an inkling, I heard on the roof
The dancing and spiking of each giant hoof.
As I drew in my head, and turned toward the sound,
Down the chimney Gronkowski came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his toe,
And his clothes were all tarnished with Drakkar and Merlot .
A gigantic 87 across the width of his back,
And he looked like a peddler, totting a 30-rack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His Cheshire cat grin drawn up like a bow,
No beard on his chin, his pads in tow.

The stump of a mouth guard held tight in his teeth,
Dark as coal like the eye black it’s beneath.

He had large feet and size 16 cleats to match,
His Christmas meal is Red Bull and kids of the sour patch!

He is not chubby and plump, but a giant Buddy the Elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his flat topped head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all his teamates stockings, then began to twerk
Lavishing all with iPads and headphones by Bose,
After giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his party bus and to his brothers gave a whistle,
And down route 1 they flew like that of a missle.
But I heard him exclaim, as they drove out of sight,
“Let’s go to Kowloon, it’s Christmas! And to all a good night!”

 

Sterling PiSterling Head Shot 2ngree (@SterlingPingree) is a co-host on The Drive weekdays 4pm to 6pm on 92.9fm The Ticket and streaming live at DriveShowMaine.com. Follow us on Twitter, @DriveShowMaine and “Like Us” on Facebook, Drive Show Maine.