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Twas the Night Before Gameday

Twas the night before Gameday, when all through the land
Not a pep band was playing, drumlines went unmanned.
The helmets were hung by the lockers with care,
In hopes that a Rose Bowl trophy soon would be there.

The footballers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of touchdowns danced in their heads.
And Kahlua in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our 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 pass,
as if someone replaced the fieldturf with grass.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Volkswagen Bus, and eight kegs of beer.

With a little old driver, with media quip,
I knew in a moment it must be St Chip.
More rapid than badgers his allies they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Darron! now, Kenjon! now, Rice and Alonso!
On, LaMichael! On, Asper! on, on Tuinei and Lokombo!
To the left of the line! to the right of the read!
Now dash away! Dash away! To the endzone with speed!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, a reverse they would try
So down to the endzone the allies they flew,
With there arms full of footballs, and St Chip's smile too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the net
An ATQ and Fishduck practice report, a formation offset.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Chip came with a bound.

He was dressed all in yellow, from visor to his shoes,
And his clothes were from Nike were all tech breakthroughs.
A bundle of gameplans he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a scientist, accepting no setback.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his smile how merry!
His arms were like tree trunks, opponents be wary!
His droll little sarcasm was drawn up by his dad,
To fend off Canzano and his recording doodad.

Injury reports he held tight to his hip.
"He's out of his mind!" The reporters would quip.
He had a broad face and had come from the deli,
"Cheese slice?" he asked when I yelled out "Chip Kelly!"

The offensive genius was here in my house,
I couldn't believe it, I yelled for my spouse!
A wink of his eye and a view of his playcard,
Soon gave me to know, I would follow my vanguard.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And diagrammed all the plays, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
The bowl game he would win would come with a rose!

He sprang to his Volkswagen, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove with his stars,
"Happy Gameday to all, and a Rose Bowl victory will be ours!"