Editor's note: Silver Seven is taking a short break over the holidays until next Wednesday the 27th. We hope you enjoy some time with your friends and family, too. Enjoy this Christmas send-off!
'Twas the night before Sensmas, and all through the rink
No sound could be heard—not one dripping sink!
The stockings were hung in the lockers to de-odour
In hopes that St. Spartacat to Kanata would motor.
The players were nestled all snug at Mark Stone’s
Since Brady declared a night to not sleep alone.
While Alfie in his Jofa, and Michael Andlauer
Had both settled down for their normal eight hours.
When out in Lot 9 there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from Club Bell to see what was the matter.
Out a window to see, my head I did poke—
Since the walk to Lot 9 is truly no joke—
Snow glinted upon the pedestrian path’s roof
And I opened my ear for (I assumed) a hoof,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a crew of mascots in their personal gear!
With a big furry driver so catty and spry,
I knew Spartacat had arrived from the sky.
More rapid than chariots his motley crew came,
And Spartacat roared as he called them by name:
"Now, Thunderbug! Youppi! And Buoy, you're so pretty!
On, Harvey! on, Hunter! And I can't forget Gritty!
To the CTC concourse, where the tap's always cold!
And they serve famous egg rolls from a palace of gold!"
By magic (produced by one N.J. Devil)
They teleported right to the zamboni level;
They raced through the maze of the CTC's bowels
Past steaks (not for babies) and old rally towels.
The sleigh moved so fast, presents threatened to drop
But Sparty caught each thing that fell from the top.
And though I'm no expert, I could see his pride
In carefully stopping the ones going wide.
He wore a home jersey (2D logo, of course),
And he read from a list which he checked off with force:
"Timmy and Tommy and Josh on this wall,
Then Anton and Joonas and Erik the Small.
And Matty and— wait, is there some mistake?
Are there really three little boys here all named Jake?!"
Then, in a roar, which still now makes me quiver,
He said to his mascots, "Don't just stand there—deliver!"
Then too fast for reports to reach Bob McKenzie
They snapped to attention in a furry-ous frenzy
They travailed together, they made quite quick work
('Cept Gritty, who instead found a nice place to twerk).
Then Sparty himself looked me dead in the eye;
My inner child leapt and I started to cry.
He offered a hug and I could not resist;
I clung with my arms, and his soft fur I kissed.
"Will it ever get better?” I heard myself ask.
"Now," he said, "that is not one person’s task.
Do you like the players, the jerseys, the vibe?”
“Yes, I like all of the things you describe.”
“Then that’s the first step, in a very long journey,
For it’s a large team that wins Stanley’s tourney.
Yes, it’s the players, and staff, and the coach,
But also the fans, and—this is not a reproach—
You can criticize players, but also give credit.
Hockey can only be fun if you let it.
You should expect lots of great things from these talents,
But fandom, like life, is about finding a balance.”
Then right in his hand he procured a jujube
I took it, he laughed, and his laugh went like, “Zuuuuub,”
He packed up the sleigh, and he called up his friends
Who’d finished bestowing their gifts to the Sens
And his sled levitated, but before it was gone
It circled around the whole Jumbotron!
The magic returned to warp them from the bowl
To next bring the Leafs and Habs their lumps of coal.
He shouted to me, as they re-met the snow,
“Merry Sensmas to all, and to all, go Sens go!”
An excerpt from the original "A Visit from St. Nicholas" , or "The Night Before Christmas" as it's more commonly known, by Clement Clarke Moore:
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of 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
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; 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,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”