‘Twas the night before NBA Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature
was stirring, not even Tony Parker and someone’s spouse. The nets were hung
on the rims with care, in hopes that tip-off soon would be there.
Doug Collins is nestled all snug in his bed, while visions of coaching MJ danced
in his head. And Mark Jackson with his hand down, and Jalen with his bat, Van
Gundy closed his sleepy eyes for a long pregame nap.
When out on the court, Steph Curry brought a clatter, the MVP’s shot sprung
through the air, defying space and matter. With thoughts of Klay scoring 30 in a
flash, and hopes of Draymond talking excessive trash.
Chris Bosh prances and paws like a fancy figure skater, Whiteside is nasty down
low like an ornery gator. Dwyane Wade’s shot silently drops like new-fallen
snow, but Anthony Davis has luster to be a tough foe. When, what to my
wondering eyes should appear, but an embattled coach emerged from thin air….
With a penchant to choke late in games with a quiver, I knew in a moment it must
be Doc Rivers. More rapid than eagles his Clippers they came, and he whistled,
and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now, Griffin! now, Crawford! now Paul Pierce and CP3! On, DeAndre! on,
Reddick! on, Josh Smith and Prigioni! From the first whistle to the last bounce of
the ball! Now flop away! Flop away! Flop away all!
And a hurricane is coming as I look up above. LeBron is the eye of the storm and
he’s brought Kevin Love. Cavs don’t have the desire to remain number 2, they’re
now at full strength with the return of Uncle Drew.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from afar, the Thunder seem ready for a
basketball war. As Ibaka turns shots in the other direction, underused Kanter
fights for Billy Donovan’s attention.
Westbrook is dressed like a hipster, from his head to his toe, his clothes and his
shot selection are stealing the show. As Durant heads to the arena, searching for
the title that he lacks, he looks like a child, still wearing backpacks.
Russell and Randle’s futures are looking so bright, but watching the Lakers is a
horrific sight. But Kobe’s the real story, his last Xmas game. He’s certain to throw
air balls up with no shame. And his legacy tarnished with each errant shot; no
chance on this day he’ll find a way to get hot.
No Mavs on Xmas, Mark Cuban is slapping his head. Their roster is older than
Dale from The Walking Dead. And Ray Felton has a disgusting round belly,
that shakes when he shoots, like a bowlful of jelly!
While in Houston, James Harden‘s beard continues to grow, as Dwight
Howard sulks with each errant free throw. Ty Lawson hands out turnovers like
presents to others, because as a good Christian he gives to his brothers.
Kawhi Leonard hears laughter when you look at his hair, but his defense has
opponents shuttering in fear. Tim Duncan spoke not a word, but went straight to
his work. Coach Pop scowled in an interview, looking like a real jerk. And bending
over to display a large bald spot, Manu uses the glare to distract his foes’ shots.
Jimmy Butler puts in work, proving he’s no rookie, while with frazzled hair and
scary screams, Pau Gasol resembles a Wookie. DRose looks eagerly at stockings
with his hands in a clench, wishing that Santa brings him a new suit to wear on
the bench.
The refs sprang to mid-court, to the players gave a whistle, and away they all
jumped like an anti-ballistic missile. Then Adam Silver exclaimed, as he used his
ears to fly out of sight, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
