Off season report - Week 3 the Christmas edition

Twas the league before Christmas poem

 A Troy Booth adaption of a much greater work.


Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the BPL,
Not a player was training, not even big Al.
The boots were stored wet without any care,
In hopes that St Nicholas would replace them this year.

The Slammers were nestled all smug in their beds,
While visions of their victory danced in their heads.
And Dan in his ‘kerchief, and Brian in his cap,
Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the fields there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my own bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the car I flew like a flash,
Speeding round every corner on this mad dash.

The moon on their breasts like the new-fallen snow
It was the girls of the community, don't you know.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a cat fight broke out and long I did cheer.

The next action disapointed all the lads,
This fight was broken up by who else but Adz.
More rapid than eagles to the fields the teams came,
And Adz whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Cobra! now, Slammer! now, Buggers and Vixens!
On, Heroes! On, UQ! on, on Dojo and Blitzen!
To the front of the endzone! to the sideline pack!
Now cut away! Cut away! But return to the stack!"

As dry dust rose from below their newly received cleats,
When they meet with an obstacle, they flew over it with feats.
So up to head high, horizontal they flew,
With the bag fully of tricks, and regular throws too.

And then, a twinkling of toes I heard him behind me,
The prancing and pawing of defense who could it be? 
I was drawing my head in, and was turning around,
When Pete did fly past and the disc hit the ground.

He was dressed all in fur, most unusual for frisbee,
Now all cover in dust, such an effort you see.
Almost the whole team he carried on his back,
And he looked unfased as he over flow each pack.

From the next field we heard loud noises so merry!
The Heroes had scored, George's throw was a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
His cheeks full of joy all red did they glow.

The Mayors crutches now gone for the sake of this blog,
No bad throws he remembers, his mind it does fog.
He had beard on his face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

The MVP was there not full of himself, which is most wise,
I laughed when I saw him sky Griff, a man two times his size!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know, that Goose was off his head.

He spoke not a word, just a rambling noise,
And refilled his glass then drank it with poise.
Then laying his finger aside of his nose,
No more could he play not even with his bros!

Then Adz sprang to his feet, to the teams gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"