<b><i>A Rocket Christmas</i></b> Twas the night of the playoffs, when all through the blizzard, Not a player was stirring, not even a Wizard. The banners were hung on the rafters with care, In hopes that a Championship soon would be there. The Raptors were gathered all proud on the floor, With visions of MVPs, gold rings and more. And mamma in her jersey and I in my shorts, Had just settled down for the game on the court. When out on the hardwood there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter. Away down to courtside I flew like a flash, Pushed past security like a hot knife through hash. Music was blasting to start up the show, While strobelights lit up all the objects below. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But Clutch the Bear and eight Rocketeers. With a little old coach, so lively and free, I knew in a moment it must be Rudy T. More rapid than Claxtons his players they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now Francis, now Moochie, now T-Mo and Williams! On Langhi, On Cato, On Mobley and Griffin! To the top of the key! Rebound the ball! Now fast break-away, break-away, break-away all!" They faced up to the Raptors like birds on the fly, They nailed from halfcourt; they dunked from the sky. In front of the fans, the Rockets they flew, With a crowd full of bobbleheads, Tomjanovich too. And then, in a wink, I heard a sound that was sick, The rattling and clanging of each Mobley brick. As I raised up my arms and was jumping around, From across midcourt Francis came with a bound. He was dressed all in pinstripes, from his head to his sneakers, And the Raps knew their chances had just gotten bleaker. An NBA spalding he bounced in his hand, And he looked like an astronaut ready to land. His eyes, how they twinkled, his dimples how merry, As he pulled off a crossover and blew past Jason Terry *. His thin little mouth held a smile broad and large, So he must've forgotten his DWI charge. He took the game over with courage and heart, Zipping around like a magical dart. He lit up the Raps like a big napalm blast, Overwhelming them with iron will and "fockass" And as for Hakeem? He was there on the floor, And I cheered when I saw him, in spite of his box-score. But the game would soon end as the seconds ticked by, Rocks down by one, but worry? Not I! Francis spoke not a word, but did it with spunk, And won us the game with a thunderous dunk! And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, to his teammates he rose. He sprang on their shoulders while the crowd cheered with glee, And away they all rushed to celebrate victory. But I heard Francis exclaim as he was carried out of sight, "Happy Championship to all, and to all a good-night!" Merry Christmas, everyone!
I dunno. Probably an hour total. I did it in bits and pieces for the past week or so in my spare time.
That's very good … but I'm thinkin' that they don't get many blizzards in Houston in May. You may get them in St. John's, mind you, but not too many in Houston, I suspect.
Nice job fadeaway. This one I'm posting here is from a friend of mine on an Orlando Magic board...not really the same widespread appeal as the Rockets one here, but still enjoyable nonetheless. ------ 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the TD Waterhouse Nothing was stirring in the Land of the Mouse. The jerseys were hung in the lockers with care, In hopes that TMac soon would be there. The players were practicing, showing hope wasn't dead, Though visions of the Finals had been dashed from their heads. With DA and TMac's backs hurting, and Hill in his cast, Chances of winning the East seemed a thing of the past. When out through the tunnel there arose such a clatter, Just as MnM said, "Man, Meech got fatter". Away to the locker room flew Hudson and Flash, THud tore open the door hoping no one found his stash. For a potential intruder they searched high and low, And soon they were joined by Buechler and Ho. When, what to their wondering eyes should appear, But that odd little Santa that visited last year. He said "You have a strong team, so lively and quick, But I knew in a moment it would take time click." More rapid then eagles the rest of the team came And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; "Now, Ewing! now, Hunter! now, Declercq and Reid! You're playing the center like you're smoking some weed. To the top of the conference, to the top of them all! To take the team there, get between the basket and the ball!" Then he went over to Miller, who let's shots always fly, And when it comes to potential, the limit's the sky. "Your game's looking good, those muscles are new. Just work on your defense, and you'll be star too. And then, in a twinkling, he spotted someone new. He turned to young Sasser and said "Hey, who are you?" The rook got mad, said he was the Iverson stopper. The old man just laughed and said more like a floor mopper. He smelled of some beer, from his head to his foot, And when he spotted Gabe in the hall he began to hollar and hoot. "Dealing away Outlaw, you may someday roo, And Haywood for Profit? Man how drunk were you? His eyes--they were wide, his mood wasn't merry! And his face got all red when he spotted Pat Garrity! "Why is this guy always backing up Ho? Can't you tell that is game is a white as the snow?" Doc Rivers came over to see what was brewing, And the man suggested he start Patrick Ewing. Doc thought for a moment then said that was silly, Ewing moves like he's running in a bowlful of jelly. He talked to all the players, the jolly old elf. And he said as a present they'd get McGrady's return to health. A wink of his eye and some rest for his back, Soon TMac would be there to pick up the slack. He spoke no more words, except to Declercq. He pulled him aside and said that headband don't work. And with that advice, he walked out the door, Towards the exits, across the basketball floor. He spraing to his Chevy, and turned on his car, And away he flew, probably headed for a bar. But they heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and small ball really bites!"
The Real Rocket Christmas Was The Night before Christmas and all through the Dive Stevie was wasted and left in his Ride The Bong was placed on the Toilet with care in hopes that Mo Taylor would soon be there KT was asleep in his 8 foot bed but the Vision of a Pit Bull danced in his head . Walt in his Lugs and His Wife in her Threadz Were Up all night looking for their stolen Benz See Fade , Only 1 day and already there is a stupid parody out .
I like this one too. <i>The Night Before Christmas -- Ebonics Version</i> Twas da night befo' Christmas and all in the hood Not a homie was stirring cuz it was all good The tube socks was hung on the window sill and we all had smiles up on our grill Mookie and BeBe was snug in the crib in the back bedroom cuz that's how we live and moms in her do-rag and me with my nine had just gotten busy cuz girlfriend is fine All of a sudden a lowrider rolled by Bumpin phat beats cuz the system's fly I bounced to the window at a quarter pas' Bout ready to pop a cap in somebody's-- well anyway I yelled to my lady, Yo peep this! She said, Stop frontin just mind yo' bidness I said, for real doe, come check dis out We weren't even buggin, no worries, no doubt Cuz bumpin an thumpin' from around da way Was Santa, 8 reindeer and a sleigh Da beats was kickin, da ride was phat I said, Yo red Dawg, you all that! He threw up a sign and yelled to his boyz, "Ay yo, give it up, let's make some noise! To the top of the projects and across the strip mall, We gots ta go, I got a booty call!" He pulled up his ride on the top a da roof and sippin on a 40, he busted a move I yelled up to Santa, "Yo ain't got no stack!" he said, "Damn homie, deese projects is wack! But don't worry black, cuz I gots da skillz I learnt back when I hadda pay da billz." Out from his bag he pulled 3 small tings a credit card, a knife, and a bobby pin. he slid down the fire escape smoove as a cat and busted the window with a b-ball bat I said, "Whassup, Santa? Whydya bust my place?" he said,"You best get on up out my face!" His threads was all leatha, his chains was all gold His sneaks was Puma and they was 5 years old He dropped down the duffle, Clippers logo on the side Santa broke out da loot and my mouf popped open wide. A wink of his eye and a shine off his god toof He cabbage patched his way back onto the roof He jumped in his hooptie with rims made of chrome To tap that booty waitin at home and all I heard as he cruised outta sight was a loud and hearty..... "WEEESST SIIIIDE!!!!!!!"
