[Ed. note -- Guest post today from The Other Chris, channeling his inner poet. When your kids are cranky and restless tonight, be sure to read them any story other than this one. They'd be too wired and giddy with anticipation for the Christmas night Frail Blazers/Warriors game to go to sleep otherwise. Merry Christmas everyone! -Dan B.]
'Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through Eddie's House,
Not a player liked Sterling,
That cheap racist louse.
The stockings were hung way up high by Yinka Dare,
Ready for booty from the new CBA, like winnin' the lottery,
The out-of-wedlock baby mamma children were snug in their beds,
Their daddies caroused strip joints, not a care in their heads,
And Craig Sager in a stupid suit, while Jackson and Arenas bust caps,
Sternly, anyone who whines this year is rewarded with a slap,
When out in Rose Garden there arose such a clatter,
It was the sound of Frail Blazers knees, they had collectively shattered!!!
Away to the rescue flew D-Wade the Flash!
But to South Beach came LeBron and Bosh, for a little less cash.
Tore down the rim and with authorit-ah, Blake did smash!
The Moon confounds us with Bawful, much like once did The Snow
There's no lustre left in the Leastern, so many teams that blow.
When, what to my wondering League Pass should appear,
But the lumbering undead corpse of Erik Dampier!
With Boykins still playing, so little and quick,
I knew in a moment this season would be sick.
More vapid than Britney, The King's TV games,
But vying for the title, all of the big names:
"Now Garnett! Now Allen! Now Pierce, now Rondo!"
"If any of you get injured, your title hopes are gonzo!"
"On Williams! On Rose! On Jennings! On Paul!"
"There's a new kid in town, his name is John Wall!"
As The Answer out of the NBA and to Turkey did fly,
Like David Thompson, players these days can walk the sky,
So up to the top, the Lakers they flew
With zombie Fish, and Kobe, and crazy Artest, too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard there was proof.
That the ancient Spurs aren't done, they also plan to raise the roof.
As Drew joined yet another team, with weird head hair and lots of rebounds,
Tumbling down came the Bucks, the Deer have been bound.
They dress all in fur, these millionares, and never go by foot,
Except maybe Matt Booner, covered in smog and soot.
A gaggle of Bulls follow Derrick, as he attacks the rack,
A rich history of glory, they want to go back.
Their eyes - how they twinkle! Even the Paupers, they're merry!
At least the NBA doesn't have to put up with Don Fucking Cherry!
Draftees usually rock a suit, but for Noah it's a bow,
No matter, he's good; watch out, Pierce, thunder down below!
Red, iconic with a cigar clamped in his teeth,
The Celtics, loved and hated, keep piling up the wreaths.
With broad faces and even broader bellies,
The likes of Diaw and Davis need to lay off the damn jelly,
With Oden once again laid up on the shelf,
Probably, after dong pic, though "I shoulda stopped myself".
With a wink of his eye, there goes little Luther Head,
Banished to Sacramento, the land of the walking dead.
Arenas speaks no more, he just goes straight to work.
Too bad his shot and his game have gone completely beserk.
Last year in the Finals it was the Lake Show by a nose;
But everyone reloaded, gunning for the overthrow.
Like legions of homers, cringing at a late whistle.
The Raptors, Cavs and Warriors can fit their hopes in a thistle.
But as Marv Albert exclaimed, at another spectacular sight:
"There's always hope for you sad sacks; just wait for draft night!!"
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