Finwad32
Hall of Fame
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- Aug 28, 2011
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'Twas the night before Kickoff, when all thro' the Loud House,
Not a fan was spurring, not even their spouse;
The Uniforms were hung by their lockers with care,
In hopes that St. Shafer would soon shave the Wildcats bare;
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Sugar Bowls danc'd in their heads,
And Missy in her 'kerchief, and 45,000 in their caps,
Had just settled our brains for a long season's map-
When out on the turf arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bleachers to see what was the spatter.
Away to the railing I flew like a flash,
The Orange had tore open the Wildcats, used 'em for mash.
The Lights on the roof of our long standing dome,
Gave the lustre of champions to the Orange below;
When, what to my wondering fans should appear,
But a miniature train, with Otto to steer,
With a little old opponent, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment Villanova would go home sick.
More rapid than eagles Terrell's bombs came,
And he whistled, and shouted, building his fame:
"Now! Jerrod, now! Bristly, now! Adrian, and Ashton,
"On! Quinta, on! Alvin, on! Jamal and Steve;
"To the top of the ACC! to the top of them all!
"Now bombs away! bombs away! bombs away all!"
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, let the ball fly;
So up to the Dome-Top the Dome Ranger flew,
With the Dome full of Oranges and Scott Shafer too:
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The boom of the deflection from Riley's right hoof.
As I drew in my wife and turned around,
Down the field St. Shafer came with a bound:
He was dress'd all in Orange, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with Wildcat soot;
A bundle of players behind his back,
And he look'd like a legend, getting his first crack:
His eyes - how they burned! His fists ready to flurry,
His players were like horses, ready to win in a hurry;
His profanity filled mouth drew like a bow,
The Wildcats were on the receiving end of his might blow;
The stump of a headset he held tight to his mouth,
And the smoke encircled his head ready to send another foe to Crouse.
He had a great team, all of them ready
The Dome shook when they came but the team stayed steady:
They were big and broad, a fierce group indeed,
And we laugh'd when we saw them mount their Orange steeds.
A blow of the whistle and a twist of Hunt's wrist
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word at the presser, but went straight to work,
And fill'd all the fans nickers like a Miley Cyrus twerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
He reminded us of Boeheim, he was one of the bro's.
He sprung to his field, to his team gave a whistle,
And the all flew, like the down of a thistle:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Let's Go Orange, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!
I know, I know, way too much time on my hands.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/12/25/twas-the-night-before-christmas_n_801194.html
Not a fan was spurring, not even their spouse;
The Uniforms were hung by their lockers with care,
In hopes that St. Shafer would soon shave the Wildcats bare;
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Sugar Bowls danc'd in their heads,
And Missy in her 'kerchief, and 45,000 in their caps,
Had just settled our brains for a long season's map-
When out on the turf arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bleachers to see what was the spatter.
Away to the railing I flew like a flash,
The Orange had tore open the Wildcats, used 'em for mash.
The Lights on the roof of our long standing dome,
Gave the lustre of champions to the Orange below;
When, what to my wondering fans should appear,
But a miniature train, with Otto to steer,
With a little old opponent, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment Villanova would go home sick.
More rapid than eagles Terrell's bombs came,
And he whistled, and shouted, building his fame:
"Now! Jerrod, now! Bristly, now! Adrian, and Ashton,
"On! Quinta, on! Alvin, on! Jamal and Steve;
"To the top of the ACC! to the top of them all!
"Now bombs away! bombs away! bombs away all!"
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, let the ball fly;
So up to the Dome-Top the Dome Ranger flew,
With the Dome full of Oranges and Scott Shafer too:
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The boom of the deflection from Riley's right hoof.
As I drew in my wife and turned around,
Down the field St. Shafer came with a bound:
He was dress'd all in Orange, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with Wildcat soot;
A bundle of players behind his back,
And he look'd like a legend, getting his first crack:
His eyes - how they burned! His fists ready to flurry,
His players were like horses, ready to win in a hurry;
His profanity filled mouth drew like a bow,
The Wildcats were on the receiving end of his might blow;
The stump of a headset he held tight to his mouth,
And the smoke encircled his head ready to send another foe to Crouse.
He had a great team, all of them ready
The Dome shook when they came but the team stayed steady:
They were big and broad, a fierce group indeed,
And we laugh'd when we saw them mount their Orange steeds.
A blow of the whistle and a twist of Hunt's wrist
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word at the presser, but went straight to work,
And fill'd all the fans nickers like a Miley Cyrus twerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
He reminded us of Boeheim, he was one of the bro's.
He sprung to his field, to his team gave a whistle,
And the all flew, like the down of a thistle:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Let's Go Orange, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!
I know, I know, way too much time on my hands.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/12/25/twas-the-night-before-christmas_n_801194.html
