‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The jerseys were hung in the closet with care,
As an NBA Christmas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While DeAndre and STAT dunk in their heads.
LeBron in his headband, two-three on his back,
Who left South Beach for Cleveland, on Christmas goes back.
The Knicks play at home, they’ve been a disaster,
Not even Phil Jackson can tell what’s the matter!
John Wall of the Wizards, against whom they’ll clash,
Is a triple-double threat, he can shoot, rebound, pass.
Logo on the breast for the holiday show,
That’s the alternate uni they’ll be giving a go.
An interesting look, but no need to fear,
The number is atop the name on the rear.
Westbrook the driver, so lively and quick,
Teamed up with KD, that duo is sick!
More rapid than Eagles, they fly through the lane,
And whistle and shout after winning a game.
With Parker! With Duncan!
With Ginobli and Splitter,
Green, Leonard and Diaw,
Spurs have never been fitter!
Til the end of the fourth,
Take care of the ball!
Now run the play! Run the play!
Run the play all!
Despite Father Time, the mamba can sky,
drill a turnaround, fade-away right in your eye.
So next time you tell him the Lakers are through,
One-on-one at the elbow, he’ll bust your ass, too.
The Bulls are a twinkling, they look like the truth,
They’re tenacious on defense, if you’re looking for proof.
With D Rose on the court, they’ve turned it around,
Teamed with Butler and Pau, are they championship bound?
They’ll be dressed in all red, from their head to their foot,
The King, he took off, Bosh and Wade, they stayed put.
And, both want to take their old pal to the rack,
Cause without him, to the finals, they will not go back.
His eyes — how they twinkle! His dimples, how merry?
His jump shot is wet and sweet as a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
When he drilled a long three, just like a free throw.
Down in his stance, Draymond gritting his teeth,
And Klay Thompson keeps running defenders off screens.
Was announcer, now coach, see Steve Kerr on the telly.
He swapped gigs with Mark Jackson, who’s still pissed as hell-y.
Chuck is chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
He keeps opening his mouth, in spite of himself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Shaq beat Kenny to the board, a loss he will dread.
Ernie spoke not a word, but went straight to his work.
He queued up the highlight and sat with a smirk.
The back door was triggered by a touch of the nose,
And giving a nod, Blake Griffin rose.
He sprang through the air, as CP gave a whistle,
They completed an oop, powerful as a missile.
And I heard Doc exclaim, from the bench on the right,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”