This is the children's tale that I assume that a cantankerous college lacrosse head coach would tell his kids each holiday season.
'Twas the Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, and in a lax office,
- I sat at my desk trying to beat Robert Morris.
- "I'm not paid enough for this crap, not even a dime."
The kids were all home, lifting no weights
- "Our team is so lazy, we won't beat Penn State!"
- Had just settled in for 15 hours of prep.
When out from the film there arose such a fear,
- "ALBANY'S THOMPSON IS BACK AGAIN THIS YEAR?!"
- "Stopping that guy makes me want to vomit."
The realization set in that our season was through,
- The schedule read Carolina then Hopkins, "We're going oh-and-two!"
- "The news gets worse: Our star attackman just transferred."
With a five-foot midfielder and no prospects for hope,
- I knew -- very clearly -- that I was surrounded by dopes.
- If we lost lots of games my ass would be grass.
"Now Wind-Sprint! Now Stalling! Now Abusing Referees!
- On Poke Check! On Middie! On Avoiding Penalties!
- We'll fake it or make it, or possibly die!"
And then, in a twinkling, it bore in my brain
- The truth of the matter was we were totally lame.
- My assistant exclaimed, "Do we work for Brown?"
We were drunk on the season and probably some beers,
- Our clothes were all rumpled, we've worn them for years.
- "This would be easier if we accepted despair."
My assistant sat softly, straightening his work,
- "I have an idea," he said, "how 'bout we twerk?"
- Made me wish more than anything that he would be dead.
He sprang to his feet and bounced with delight,
- "Princeton will kill us by twenty, alright."
- "I'll blame it on him when we lose to B.U."