Written by Jonathan Knight

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With apologies to Clement C. Moore, who, like Cleveland’s title aspirations, has been dead since 1863...

 

’Twas the night before Christmas when all along Lake Erie

Not a team was in contention and the fans were quite weary.

The high draft picks were set, ready to anoint

The next batch of players sure to disappoint.

 

Colt McCoy was nestled all snug in his bed,

Though he had double vision and appeared to be dead.

His dad called out Holmgren, who said not a peep

Now hoping this meant he could go back to sleep.

 

While back at the Q the Cavs finally were ready

To start playing ball after an offseason so petty.

Yet there still was no King we had known so well

For his soul is burning in the bowels of hell.

 

 

The streets were all buried with lake-effect snow

And that made us wonder how low we could go.

When what to our wondering eyes should appear

But cheery Phil Dawson holding a six-pack of beer.

Since I knew this little guy really could kick

I thought, ‘There’s no reason to act like a dick.’

“You probably wonder why is it I came,”

He asked as he gave all the reasons by name.

 

“There’s Carmona and Boobie and all-screwed-up Hillis

“Who has us all asking ‘Whatchoo talkin’ ’bout Willis?’

“And it’s hard to root for a bad team so risky

“That it truly believed in Brian Robiskie.

 

“But things aren’t so bad,” Phil was heard to say.

“Just think, our teams won’t suck so much one day.”

I scoffed as I wondered where he got the nerve

To suggest that these jokers weren’t what we deserve.

 

“Let’s keep in mind, my long-suffering homey,

“This summer we saw the return of Jim Thome.

“And the Tribe was on fire for a few magic weeks

“Before bending over and spreading their cheeks.”

 

“We beat LeBron’s Heat and then swept the Red Sox,

“And Nick Gilbert won a draft pick, sly as a fox.

“Young prospects stepped up and we were able to witness

“The inspiring efforts of Brantley and Kipnis.

 

“Sizemore came back after busting his knee 

“And Cleveland State cruised into the NIT.

“We triumphantly shouted ‘Here’s mud in your eye!’

“When we cold-cocked the Yankees on the Fourth of July.”

 

“LeBron got snarky and tweeted about karma,

“Then lost the Finals and we laughed from here to Parma.

“And let’s not forget the best kind of windfall

“When we landed a team in lingerie football.”

 

I shrugged as I thought back upon 2011

And found it far distant from the kingdom of heaven.

“Things really did suck for a lot of this year,”

I said with a grunt as I reached for a beer.

 

We had watched in silence with not even a murmur

As we tried to have faith in troubled Pat Shurmur.

The Cavs lost by 50 and dropped a bunch more

While the Browns turned into an insufferable bore.

 

Because Holmgren thought he was too much of a meany

He belatedly drop-kicked good old Mangini.

We thought we’d found magic, just like Aladdin,

Then Hillis got put on the cover of Madden.

 

Austin Kearns spent the summer playing like shit,

As the Tribe slumped badly and then got no-hit.

The Cavs were as soft as a stuffed toy to cuddle

And the Browns lost a game ’cause they can’t break the huddle.

 

The Tribe fell apart and LeBron sold his mansion

While the Browns are still living in the land of expansion.

Our thoughts of this year are sure not too husky -

Like taking a shower with Jerry Sandusky.

 

“It could always be worse,” said the kicker so wiry.

“The Cavs may not have landed a point guard named Kyrie.

“The Browns have shown signs they might learn to pass

“While the Tribe has a chance to really kick ass.

 

“So before you ponder ending it with a gun,

“Think back to a time when this used to be fun.

“These things go in cycles, according to Zen.

“It’s bound to get better - just a question of when.”

 

“Phil Dawson, you’re right,” I said with a grin.

“In this town, having hope isn’t a sin.”

Here’s great advice from the man who kicks the ball:

Cherish each victory, no matter how small.

 

Phil smiled broadly and said with a wink,

“This town is lucky no matter what others think.”

And I heard him exclaim as he drove off that night:

“Merry Christmas, Cleveland - go cheer with all your might!”

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