Twas the night before tournament and all thru the gym, Not a creature was stirring except Amber Lyn.
The nets were hung by her sister Ginger, Who could shoot out the lights with the flick of her finger.
The JV’s were snuggled all in their beds, Thinking “Varsity” with good play, and a fresh pair of Keds.
When out in the hallway there came such a clatter, the “Drolls” stopped spinning balls, to see what’s the matter.
Sparten23 flew to the window in just two beats, somebody had called out “ De La Salle cheat’s!!
Then , what to my wondering eyes did appear? But eight little players who played with no fear. They ran with the ball, so lively and quick, I wondered for a moment if it was Division 4 St. Nick!
More rapid than Freemont, his coursers they came, the whistle blew and he called them by name. “Now Sweetpea! Now Matsfan! Big Rod52! On JDub! On Lorenzo! On Oldschool!
To the top of the rim! To the top of the wall! Now rebound! Now outlet! Now fast break Y’all.
And then In a twinkling, a shout from the roof, “ THE BEST TEAM IS LODi !! And I’ve got the proof!
I turned my head, and what did occur, In came this “ Player” all dressed in red fur.
He picked up the ball with his Rosey red glow, and proceeded to drain ten in a row.
With a smiling face and a little round belly, he let out a laugh, like a bow full of jelly. He said: “ Wonce a yeer I’m glad to meatcha, wears dis guy called the Ingrinch Teecher?
Up he sprang, when the Ref blew the whistle, and away they went, thru thick and Thistle. Up the chimney, the same way they came, off his team went, to play a new game.
I heard him exclaim, from way down the block, and climbing the stoops.
Merry Christmas to all and ---
“Here’s wishing you great hoops!”
Marcskit
