'Twas the night before Christmas and all through sports,
Coach Santa was fretting the ESPN reports.
Joe Schad had confirmed as Santa readied his sled,
That the North Pole's new conference was just about dead.
The fans nestled in their beds and dreamed of the holiday feast,
That would come when the North Pole joined the Big East.
With visions of BCS bowls dancing in their heads,
Little did they know the Big East was in shreds.
Santa gave a whistle; his shout was so shrill,
"And there goes the Catholic Seven, sealing our fate,
"Schad says the next one to go will be Boise State!"
It's no wonder the elves are starting to see,
College football is about money, not making the grade,
And that's why the elves now want to be paid!
In fact, one of the elves who was exceptionally bitter,
Even took his grievances to his followers on Twitter.
"Is there really any difference," he tweeted with dismay,
Deep down, Coach Santa knew the young man was right,
But he still banned his elves from Twitter that night.
Then he admitted to himself something so controversial,
"College football, like Christmas, had become too commercial!"
His eyes teared up, his cheeks weren't so merry,
He looked like the guy who'd been dumped by Halle Berry.
His ginormous gut convulsed like Jerry Greene's belly,
As he changed the channel on his high-def telly.
Click! On the TV screen dressed in Lakers purple and gold,
Was a man who made Santa feel bitter and cold.
If ever an athlete epitomized our sports plight,
It was that free-throw bricking deserter named Dwight.
He once preached to Magic fans about love and loyalty,
And they treated him like a king; like basketball royalty.
But come to find out, he was feeding them Purina,
And he left them holding the bag on $500 million arena.
But wait! . . . Multiple sources say Dwight wants to come back,
That he's had second thoughts about being like Shaq.
Throughout Central Florida, rejoicing fans did sing,
Until they found out it was just an errant report by Ping.
"The bottom line is this," Coach Santa deduced,
"In sports, loyalty and commitment have so been reduced.
"There's really no difference between Dwight and conference realignment,
"Our sports stars and traditions are only ours on consignment."
And then on the TV, there arose such a clatter,
So Santa turned up the volume to see what was the matter.
When what to his abused ears did he hear,
But a sound that that made him crave a 12-pack of beer.
Skip Bayless and Stephen A. were yelling at each other,
While Rob Parker was questioning whether RGIII was a real brother.
Their voices were raised; their heads were a-banging,
Their noise and nonsense were like cymbals a-clanging.
Santa knew something quickly had to be done,
To restore to the sports world some innocence and fun.
Then something appeared purer as the new-fallen snow,
No, not a Christmas angel, but Timmy Tebow.
"Don't worry, Coach Santa," Tebow did vow.
"Unshackle your soul, unfurl your brow."
Then he made Santa forget all the sports traitors,
By making a pledge like he did with the Gators.
"I promise, Dear Santa, you'll have no regrets,
"If you'll just give me a chance unlike the coach of the Jets.
"I will walk on water and part the vast ocean,
"If you'll just overlook my bad throwing motion!
"Sports is about believing and giving fans hope,
It's about loyalty and faith and helping fans cope.
You'll never find anybody during times of duress,
Who'll work longer, try harder, I promise … God bless."
Coach Santa knew then the North Pole was in good hands,
So he sprang to his sleigh and announced his future plans.
I heard him exclaim, "Now I can finally retire!
"So I can spend time with the family of Urban Meyer!!!"
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