Culbreath: A Christmas poemWritten by Matt 'Shaggy' Culbreath | | firstname.lastname@example.org
(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore…)
T’was a night of the lockout, and all through the rinks
Not a top-level player skated through the lockout chain’s links.
The Zambonis sat idle in the tool sheds with shame,
because the owners and players were cancelling games.
The fans were all nestled in their leather recliners,
calling the disputing parties both whiners.
“You cancelled the year back in 2005,
why do you want another to dive?”
But Gary Bettman’s lawyers, and Donald Fehr’s too,
had settled their minds on a lawsuit or two.
“We’ll dissolve!” said the union. “Our players will sue!
Antitrust lawsuits out the wazoo!”
“Oh yeah?” asked the league. “We got to court first!
Your plan to decertify is simply the worst!”
They cancelled the Classic! The All-Star Game, gone!
It seems like the lockout will always drag on.
And while the two side fight over a few million bucks,
The fans in Toledo will just say, “This sucks.”
And with T-Town in jerseys, and I in my toque,
We put our face in our hands as we lost all our hope.
We love hockey here, it’s deep in our history.
Some of us lived next to Eruzione!
When on Jefferson Street there arose such a ruckus,
We all turned our heads and yelled “What the canuck-us?”
It was the Walleye, of course, and they were playing a game!
And we cheered, and we shouted, and we called them by name!
“On Rogers, on Andrej, on Broadhurst and Coetzee!
On J-Pearce, Glendenning and head coach Vitucci!
From inside the crease and through the five hole,
now slap away, shoot away, and ring up a goal!”
And then, in a second, I heard it sound nice:
the sound of sharp metal cutting through ice.
And as we turned in our tickets and all took our seats,
the Walleye would wow us with athletic feats.
Their feet-how they skated! The long sticks they carry!
Their smiles were like chessboards and grimaces scary!
They were dressed all in blue, from their heads to their feet,
and when they’d throw down, it was quite a treat.
And that’s when it hit me, as I watched the team play,
I didn’t think there would be hockey today.
With Bettman and Fehr still locked in their game,
they hadn’t stopped hockey from coming! It came!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
It came without Bruins! It came without Kings!
It came without Penguins or Flyers or Wings!
(Wait, hold on… wrong poem.)
So, to owners and players who don’t want to work,
just sit on your hands and be a big jerk.
We’ve got the Walleye in town, they’ll fill in for you
(and don’t forget the boys down at BGSU).
You just can’t stop hockey, us puckheads are proud.
We love to see goals and we love to get loud.
We’re rooters, and cheerers, goaders and chanters,
At the Huntington Center, or the old Tam o’ Shanter.
And it’s not just the grown ups, we bring out our kids!
One glimpse of the game, and they flip their lids!
We teach them to yell while under the dome,
and stress: “Say that here… don’t repeat it at home.”
And when a fight goes down with one of our fishes,
that fulfills one of our Holiday Wishes.
(Which is a perfect reminder: that CD we made?
It still can be purchased 15 bucks paid!)
Toledo’s a hockey town, proud to admit it.
And the puck they play here is exquisite.
So if I could say, without sounding bawdy,
“Happy Christmas to All, and to all, HIT SOMEBODY!”