Twas the night before Christmas, and all through Cub country
Not a person was stirring, not even Beth Murphy.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Theo & Jed soon would be there.
Tom Ricketts was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of championships danced in his head.
Russell with hair flying, T-Wood in his cap,
Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon shining on Chicago's cold and snow
Gave the lustre of midday to objects below.
When, what should appear, as if in a dream:
A blue and white sleigh carrying a baseball team!
With a brand new sleigh driver, so lively, though thick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Rick.
More swift than Shark's fastball the players they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Starlin! now, Rizzo!
Now, Junior, Schierholtz!
On, Welly! On, Javy!
On Darwin and Olt!
Hit those balls strong!
Hit 'em over the wall!
We'll play 'em all hard
And someday win it all!"
The dry leaves that fall from the ivy walls die,
When they start to grow, Strop's fastball will fly,
And over on the rooftops there's some owners of same,
Not letting the Cubs start their renovation game.
And then, in a twinkling, I saw two intent faces
Planning, they were, on future pennant races.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Theo & Jed came with two bounds.
They were all dressed in chinos and polo shirts,
And they brought some who'll play on the Wrigley Field dirt.
A bundle of players they had flung on the roster,
In hopes that none of them would be an impostor.
"I brought you Ruggiano," Theo said with a smile.
"And Kottaras and Veras, who might play with style."
"I brought a new Marshall, whose right hand can throw!"
Will the Cubs get Tanaka? We do not yet know.
Could Vitters and Jackson still turn into good Cubs?
Or will they forever be known just as scrubs?
Fujikawa, Vizcaino: what will they become?
Are they bullpen saviors? Or just two more bums?
Rick was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He filled all the lineups, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
To the new park in Mesa all flew like a missile.
And I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Cub Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"