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‘Twas the night before a Giants Christmas

An adaptation of the famous poem

New York Giants v Baltimore Ravens Photo by Patrick Smith/Getty Images

A couple of years ago I took on the challenge of re-writing Clement Clark Moore’s “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” making it into a New York Giants version of the classic Christmas poem. After missing last year, I’m back with another, updated, re-write. Merry Christmas, hope you enjoy!

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through John Mara’s house
Not a creature was stirring, not even the ghost of the MacReese louse;
The stockings were hung by the goal posts with care,
In hopes that a rescuing saint soon would be there;

The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of unlikely victories — and fat pay checks — danced in their heads;
And big John in his 'kerchief, and suave Steve in his cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the MetLife turf there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their office couches to see what was the matter.
Away to their windows they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the Field Turf below,
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and a volunteering savior, oh dear,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
It was a shiny-headed St. Riddick.
More rapid than eagles (of course) Grinch Gettleman’s troops also came,
Cursing and shouting in very un-Christmas-like fashion, he challenged St. Riddick to a war game;

"You won’t take my job, Riddick, because I’ve got the fix in!
Patron Saint Accorsi is hiring me,” he said with a grinchy grin!
“To the top of the standings we go! While you go back to your TV casting call!
Now go away! Go away! Go away and bawl!"

As St. Riddick rode away while beginning to cry,
The Gettle-Grinch made it known he was here to heal the franchise’s black eye,
So up to the stadium offices the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of pink slips, and the Gettle-Grinch too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The thudding and thumping of each big, elderly hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Thru the window the Gettle-Grinch crashed with a horrible sound.

He was dressed all in panther print, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of scouting reports he had he had stashed in his pack,
He wasn’t a Grinch at all, just a Giant glad to be back.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
He knew it was his time to replace Jerry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Eleven years later, he finally would get to run the show;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a big old belly,
That shook, when he laughed while talking on the telly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him put a photo of Tom Coughlin up up the shelf;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know that the old man really wasn’t someone to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He fired all the players, except Manning; even Beckham, who he said was a jerk,
Replace the offensive line? Well, he said it blows,
And giving a nod, out the busted window he goes;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his scouts gave a whistle,
And away they all flew to watch the Darnold missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,