The Night Before A WoSo Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, at least in my house.
Not a creature was stirring, ’cause my cat ate the mouse.
The stockings were hung up by thumbtacks with care,
Hoping that something would show up in there.
The feline was curled up all snug in his bed,
While visions of wingless birds danced in his head.
And me in my flannel, getting ready to nap,
Had just settled down with a tasty nightcap.

When out on the street there arose such commotion,
I rolled off the couch like Baywatch in slow-motion.
I flew to the window in a Western New York Flash,
Tripped over the carpet and cursed the damned Houston Dash.
The moon shining down on the now week old snow
Showed it plowed into piles with nowhere to go.
When what to my nearsighted eyes should appear,
But a red Chevrolet filled with eight Seattle Reign dears.
With a Kim Little driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment she chauffeured St. Nick.

More rapid than game tweets his red Chevy came,
He whistled and shouted and called dears by name:
Now, Fishlock! Now, Deines! Now, Pinoe and Keirsten!
On, Stephanie! On, Sydney! On, Dani and Lauren!
To the top of the box! Set up in the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away with the ball!
Like free kicks into the wind, the Chevy did fly,
Like Carli Lloyd shots it took to the sky,
So up to the housetop the entourage flew,
Like Lisa De Vanna when she plays with Sky Blue.

And then in a twinkling, I heard loud beeping horns
The little red Chevy had run over Portland Thorns.
As I was shaking my head and turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in swag from his foot to his head,
Must be a Washington Spirit fan ’cause it was all in red.
A bundle of balls he had flung on his back,
He looked like a Kansas City staffer just opening his pack.

Like Chicago Red Stars, his eyes-how they twinkled!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose he did wrinkle.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
A shiny new whistle he held tight in his teeth,
Always at the ready if he ran into Tobin Heath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That would even make Mittsy a little bit jelly.
He 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
Made me think of Gulati and all that I dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
(Kind of like Cheryl Bailey) then he 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 Chevy, to his dears blew his whistle,
And away they all flew like at training dismissal.
But I heard him exclaim, as he covered the acres,
“Merry Christmas to all, and my favs, Boston Breakers!”

*My apologies to Clement Moore.
This is what too much time and more than a little Christmas cheer will do to a person.
Please enjoy this in the spirit intended.
Merry Christmas to one and all!

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