Many renditions have been written, some good and some bad, but none perfect. Here’s my little rendition of Twas The Night Before Christmas, Braves’ edition. I hope you get a kick out of it. Merry Christmas Braves’ Country!
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the clubhouse,
Not a player was stirring, cuz they’re home with their spouse.
Their cleats were hung by their lockers with care,
In hopes that next season, the umps will be fair.
Frank and Fredi were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of a World Series danced in their heads.
But fans with their jerseys, and their favorite Braves’ caps,
Were shaking our heads after a long Winter Meetings’ nap.
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
The grounds crew sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.
Away to the dugout they flew like a flash,
Knocked over the coolers with a loud, angry crash.
The moon on the breast of the newly seeded lawn,
Gave the luster of mid-season in the midst of a yawn.
When what to the crew’s wondering eyes should appear,
But two Braves’ players, decked out in their gear.
With a well-muscled swinger, sporting a tan,
I knew in a moment it must be Dan.
And a skinny young hitter? At first I couldn’t say,
But with a much closer look, it saw it was BJ.
Now come on Dan, stop waggling your bat!
Your OBP is good, but don’t be content with that!
And BJ your heel, is as irksome as a wart!
Stop swinging for the fences, and keep your swing short!
BJ fussed with the crew, and argued the call
While Dan was just happy, to make contact at all.
But the heel started staying down, if you can imagine that,
And Dan got in a rythym, the crack of the bat!
They spoke not another word, just continued to work,
And looked at the crew with a bit of a smirk.
The waggles had settled, the heel was now down,
It was then that I noticed, Fredi pitching from the mound.
Freeman sprang from the dugout, and gave everyone a hug,
While Medlen gave water, and said not to chug.
The White Bear was there, and helping catch Fredi,
And no balls were passed, so it seems he’s ready.
A stately, old gentleman walked into their sight.
He had no stately beard, but his hear was all white.
He sprang over to Fredi, and motioned for a huddle.
The players were surprised, perhaps even befuddled.
White hair like a flair, the man began to speak.
The players seemed humbled, mild and meek.
He spoke of Bmac and Huddy, players now departed,
When in the midst of the meeting, some player farted
Fredi looked embarrassed, Wren’s hand to his nose,
It was probably Gerald Laird, if I had to suppose.
But after a moment, they all giggled with glee,
Then laughed out loud, hands slapping knees.
After moments of laughter, the meeting was over.
So much for the impromptu, Christmas Eve Hot Stover!
Then Wren waved all away, “Go have a good nght.
Merry Christmas to all, now get out of my sight!”