Robservations: I’m a poet, and yes, I do know it
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Two days before Christmas, down on College Street,
and the Standard’s newshounds were all covering their beats.
James was looking for business news to collect,
and Sherrill was downtown, shooting a wreck.
Charlie and Lisa were kept on their toes
writing government stories, and taking photos
While Margaret, Veola and Seth were all busy,
’cause the next Style section had them in a tizzy.
When at the sports desk, there was such an uproar,
that Dale jumped to his feet, his chair hitting the floor.
“Rob what are you doing?” he said, with no grin,
“Are you writing that old Christmas poem again?”
I told that old hum-bug to try and relax,
“It’s tradition,” I added, “Just try to face facts.”
“Just like that cartoon and those silly old letters,
It’s a way to fill space, and to please all our betters.”
Sure, readers might call it a little bit crazy,
But it’s Christmas time, baby! Not time to get lazy!
It’s time for some holiday cheer just for all
of our buddies around here who read about ball.
When suddenly there, in the blink of an eye,
was a red-suited, white-bearded, jolly fat guy!
It startled me so much I had to just pause,
“I always thought that my mom was Santa Claus!”
But still there he was, with his sack full of toys,
And he told me and Dale that we’d both been good boys.
So he opened his pack, and he gave us some gifts,
which gave even Dale’s spirits a bit of a lift.
For Stubblefield, season tickets for U.T.,
(Pretty crummy, I thought, but hey, that’s him, not me.)
“But Santa,” I pleaded, “What present is mine?”
He said to be patient, and to give him some time.
It didn’t sound fair, and it didn’t seem right
But I let Chubby tease me, ’cause it was his night.
And my patience paid off, when he finally came through
with a Cubs baseball cap that was shiny and new.
But he also gave us a few words of advice,
before he departed, which I thought was nice.
“Keep following those players, and watching those games,
And be sure that you check how to spell all those names!
I knew he was right, and I nodded to Stubby,
“Santa’s pretty darn smart, even if he is chubby!”
We need all those Pioneers, and Broncos and such,
Even if sometimes, they might play too much.
They may keep us hopping from ballfield to gym,
but we wouldn’t have paychecks if it wasn’t for them.
So let’s raise all our glasses, for a big Christmas toast,
to the players and coaches that we need the most!