‘Twas the day before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
They were all on the couch
The children were nestled
In front of the screen
Their parents and relatives
Squeezed in between
As snow filled the air
And winds blew by gusting
Lions fans felt their old
bad luck adjusting
Our Christmases past
Were all fraught with despair
But now ’twas a glimmer
Of hope in the air
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Our football team known
for its bumbles and stumbles
Was suddenly hailed for its
touchdowns, not fumbles
A franchise of clown cars
A history of losing
Could that be them winning?
Their toughness just oozing?
Surely a miracle
Was ours to witness
The Lions were still in the
hunt — and it’s Christmas!
Hooray! we all cheered
A game that still matters!
Get out the egg nog!
Fill up nacho platters!
Last-minute shopping
We’ll have to tick off
No time to do cards,
Here comes the kickoff!
And so, while old Santa
Prepared all his toys
Lions fans gathered
To make joyful noise
“On Williams!” we shouted
“On Goff and St. Brown!”
Bring home a winner
To our long-suffering town!
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But then, in a twinkling
I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing
Of small reindeer hoofs
“You gotta be kidding!”
I said in a blather
And ran to the shed
To get out the ladder
Up to the roof
I climbed, mad and surly
And there I saw Santa:
“Surprise, kid! I’m early!”
His eyes how they twinkled
As blue as seawater
I said, “Nice to see you,
But we’re in the first quarter!’’
“Can’t you come back
Sometime after dark?
We’ll have all your cookies
And it’s easier to park.”
His droll little mouth
Drew up like a bow
The beard of his chin
was as white as the snow
He looked at me funny
I spotted a tear
“Are you saying you don’t
want to see me this year?”
I started to answer
But then from next door
I heard all my neighbors
Let out a big roar!
“I gotta go, Santa!”
I said as I scurried
Back down the ladder
To the TV I hurried
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And then for three hours
I sank in the couch
Watching a game that
If a word, would be “Ouch!”
Don’t mean to be smarmy
But they gave up more yards
Than the new Russian army
Their magic was broken
Their win streak was dead
Visions of playoffs
Flew out of my head
When down thru the chimney
I saw in dim lighting
A note — which I opened
In old Santa’s writing:
“Like I told little Billy,
Who asked for a car,
Be careful ‘bout getting
Your hopes up too far.”
I ran to the yard
As his sleigh hit first gear
“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” he yelled
“THERE’S ALWAYS NEXT YEAR!”
Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates with his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow him on Twitter @mitchalbom.