Twas the week before Xmas and all through the realm,
Not a scorer was scoring , nor a coach at the helm.
The banners were strung from the rafters with care,
In the hopes they’d be joined by others up there.
The players were rushing to catch their flights home,
While their profs still expected they’d write up a tome.
And mamma with her colors, and I with my cap,
Had just settled our nerves for the mid-winter gap.
When out of the blue came an obnoxious chatter.
We sprang to the tube to see what was the matter.
On a Reebok planet we shouldn’t have known,
Were selfish pro athletes being kids (half-grown).
With owners at rest with the money they made
Giving less and less down to those in the shade
Well, what could now cheer my disgust and dismay?
But a return to the rink and its cozy cold play!
With a ton of blithe coaches--some sodden, some slick
We knew in a moment what made us all tick.
From Amherst to Oswego to Cortland they came,
And we whistled and shouted and called them by name:
Now Cobbers, Now Blazers, Now Panthers and Bisons
On Camels, On Cougars, on Eagles and Lions!
To the top of the perch, to the top of the board,
Now pass away, pass
today, pass til its scored!!!
Since these short school years so quickly flee by
Don’t forget to enjoy that great hockey high,
And shout, scream and holla with your whole crew
Be it win, lose or tie against Slippery Rock U!
Cause then in a twinkling you’ll be more aloof
And to have all but ignored it will be a huge goof.
As the players look back they’ll not be around,
All the teammates and hoopla that made it so sound.
Where they’re all dressed in helmets and uni’s and Tacks
And are proud of their jerseys and names on the backs,
And pucks flung a-skittering just a looking for red light
And you don’t know what time it is in a rink – day or night (except that RIT transom )
Their eyes all a-glittery, their bruises like cherries,
Their checks just go bouncing, like cars on the ferries.
The trolls south get hung up on sports that make dough,
But the wizards of winter got that internal glow!
That Gump between pipes holds tight to her stick,
And her rampart encircles her team like a brick:
Holding broad space with a target on her belly
She snaps saves in her glove and laughs for the telly.
She looks chubby with clumps of oversized stealth
And she Swan Lakes and butterflies in spite of herself.
A wink from the refs and a drop of the puck
Soon gets us excited and counting our luck.
Those gals might complain while they’re doing their “work”
But their minds are a clutter with icy thoughts as a perk.
So I lay my finger upside of my nose
And give you a nod ‘fore I pass out to doze.
We’ll spring back to life, with catcalls and whistles
And the ‘rents will get at it with both admins and officials
But for the women of hockey and fans who delight
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good fight!”
Selective speculation maybe.
