'Twas the night before the Show, when all thro' the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even the spouse;
The controllers were charged by the console with care,
In hopes that Live Series Mike Trout soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
as dad finally got some time to unstress
And Mama upstairs, and I drunk as crap,
I settled in for another conquest map,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the basement to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
My Playstation gaming monitor was aglow,
Giving the lustre of mid-day to objects below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
a god squad that instantly brought fear
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be some credit card bullshit,
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name:
"Now! McGwire, now! Sosa, now! Schwarber and Jeter,
"On! Lindor, on! Shohei, on! Cueto and Turner;
"Hit bombs to the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
"Now dashboard away! dashboard away! dashboard away all!"
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the house-top the moonshots they flew,
Filled with XP and collection rewards - and Jazz Chisolm too:
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
The edibles I took knocked me to the ground.
I saw a man, he was dress'd all in fur, from his head to his shoe,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with Doritos and Mountain Dew;
A bundle of toys was flung on his back,
And he look'd like a peddler just opening his pack:
His eyes - how they twinkled! his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face, and a little round belly
That shook when he laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly:
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laugh'd when I saw him in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know the hitting engine would offer plenty of dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And fill'd my account with packs; then turn'd with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, like a perfect-perfect piss missile:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Happy Show release to all, and to all a good night.
Buy my book!
“How to Make World Series: An Expert’s Guide to Maximizing Your Results in Diamond Dynasty,” now available on Amazon.
Join My Partner Program
OK, it is not really a program but an opportunity to connect and see how we can work together. I need help promoting the book and this substack. Email MakeWorldSeries@gmail.com if interested.
I’m happy to pay for promotion if you have a significant following. We can also find other ways to support each other’s work or accounts.
Calling All Creators
Speaking of Creators, I do want to start a podcast series where we speak with the men and women who Tweet, stream, or create video content about The Show. Reach out to Chris Duong at @duongest if interested in a guest spot.
Need something to listen to?
Each week @SportsPenguin and I talk baseball, basketball, and general nonsense on our podcast: At the Plate, On Deck. This week’s episode touches on conference basketball tournaments, Ja Morant’s downfall, and much more.