‘Twas the night before Sunday
And all through the league
Not a player was stirring
Mostly due to fatigue
Their jocks were all hung
In their lockers with care
With hopes that the playoffs
Soon would be there
The commissioner was snoozing
His coffers content
And overflowing with ducats
That would never be spent
But hark! There’s a legbreak!
And a helmet or two
Making contact with foreheads
With violence to ensue!
And domestic abusers!
And drunk drivers to call!
With a nice dose of murder!
And some raping for all!
The commissioner smiled
With his policies in place
He doled out his presents
And judged every case
“50 thousand from you!
And a ten game vacation!
You can’t play in my game,
with your heavy libations!”
The players were angry
And rose in dissent
“This is too much, man!”
“This is making a dent!”
The owners lifted their hands
In a show of defeat
“Sorry, guys,” they intoned.
“He just can’t be beat.”
So together we watch
As our league goes asunder
Will it get any better?
Doubtful…I wonder.
Merry Christmas, all! Best of luck to you and yours!
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