It’s almost Christmas, Mane Landers, so here’s a little re-imagining of a classic Christmas poem, updated for our very own Lions.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through Orlando City
Not a creature was stirring, not even a kitty.
The trophy case was sparkling and polished with care,
In hopes that an MLS Cup, would soon be there.
The supporters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of a playoff berth danced in their heads.
With Kreis in his suit, he and Flavio were intending,
To settle in and begin some transfer window spending.
When out at midfield there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their desks to see what was the matter.
They ran to the window, they made quite the sight,
As the two of them peered out into the night.
The stadium lights and sparkling moon,
Made the green of the field look like a tranquil lagoon.
When what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a fat man all dressed in Orlando City gear.
He might have been old but his step-overs were quick,
And they knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
He whipped off the mask of Kaká’s face that he wore,
And yelled out the players’ names with a roar.
“Now Bendik, now Spector, now Dwyer and Aja!
On Larin, on Rivas, on Sutter, and Rocha!
To the top of the Wall! To the top of the table!
Go make the playoffs, I know that you’re able!”
He turned towards the two men up high in their box,
He spotted them, smiled, and took off like a fox.
Running and jumping up each stadium stair,
St. Nicholas bee-lined straight towards the pair.
And then in a twinkling, up the stairs he had bounded,
To where both of them stood, still quite dumbfounded.
And as Santa himself stepped into the room,
They beheld him properly in his OC costume.
He was dressed in purple from his head to his toe,
And his face seemed to give off a mystical glow.
A file of scouting tips he had in a folder,
And he seemed quite intent on handing them over.
His eyes seemed to say “The playoffs are ours!”
And his laugh was like rain falling on flowers.
His mouth was drawn up in a smile so bold,
And his beard wasn’t white, but purple and gold.
A fresh purple flare was grasped in his hand,
As if he were conducting a symphonic band.
He had “OCSC” shaved into his hairdo,
And his right bicep sported a lion tattoo.
He was jolly and happy, really quite vibrant,
But also, determined to complete his assignment.
A wink of his eye the two would later discover,
Meant that he had this whole transfer thing covered
He said not a thing, just kept grinning that grin,
And gave them the folder that would bring the team wins.
Then raising his hand as the two stood there and stared,
With a flick of his wrist, he lit up the flare.
He sprang down the steps and flourished his cloak,
And disappeared in a cloud of deep purple smoke.
But they heard him declare as the smoke billowed up,
“Merry Christmas to all, now let’s win the Cup!”
I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season, cheers.