A sports Christmas poem for you

[EDITOR'S NOTE: In honor of the holiday, I leave you with this sports Christmas poem. Happy Holidays, Big Blue View Nation!]

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the NBA
Not a creature was stirring, there were no games to play.
Knicks' fans hung stockings by the chimney with a prayer,
Still hoping James Dolan would soon boot Isiah outta there.

NFL players were nestled all snug in their beds,
Except the Broncos and Chargers, who are still bashing heads.
And mamma in her `kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just finished settling down Warren Sapp.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Even Tony Kornheiser awoke to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
There was Hank Steinbrenner, passing out cash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Even made Eli look like he could throw.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
Frank Caliendo impersonating John Madden drinking beer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
Joba could have escaped the bugs that made the Yankees sick.
More rapid than eagles from Curt Schilling the words came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and tossed around blame!

"Now Roger! now, Barry! now, Jose and Mark!
On, Andy! On, Kerry! On, Rafael, you lying shark!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! You've disgraced the great game of baseball!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
Michael Vick, he sent several dogs out to die.
So when the feds came calling he knew,
The game was up, and so was his NFL career, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
Prancing and pawing as Marion Jones' records went poof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Charles Barkley came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he offered to put me in his five, if I'd help him unpack.

He said the weather was trrible, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then called Bill Walton a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He called for his limo, yep that's how it goes!

He climbed in, then to his driver gave a whistle,
And away they all drove like they were shot from a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, `ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"