'Twas the Day Before the Super Bowl: An ode to the Philadelphia Eagles
Eagles flags were hung on the porches with care, in the hopes that St. Nicholas would answer their prayer.
'Twas the day before the Super Bowl and all through Philly,
Every creature was stirring with excitement. Dilly Dilly!
Eagles flags were hung on the porches with care,
In the hopes that St. Nicholas would answer their prayer.
The children were nestled all snug in their Birds gear,
While renditions of the fight song danced in their ear.
And Mama in her bandana and I in one of my hats,
Had just settled down to talk trash on the Pats.
When out on the stoop there arose such a ruckus,
I begrudgingly exhaled and got up off my tuchus.
Away to the main entrance I flew like Agholor,
Pushed up on the lock and threw open the door.
The moon in the "wooder" puddles out on the street,
Gave the luster of midday to the litter at my feet.
When what to my astonished eyes did I see,
But a miniature jawn filled with Eagles players – all 53!
With a little blond driver so calm and so slick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
Just as rapid as Eagles his teammates they came,
And they whispered and huddled and he called them by name:
"Now Cox, now Ertz, now Jenkins and Ellerbe,
On Long, on Johnson, on Brooks and Kelce!
To the top of U.S. Bank Stadium! To the top of the NFL!
Show those Patriots who we are, let's give 'em some hell."
As underdogs, the odds they always defy,
When others put them down, this team goes high.
So to the top of Philly's heart, this squad they flew.
A team full of starters – and St. Nicholas, too.
And then I heard on the roof of my rowhouse retreat,
The pounding and stomping of each player's cleat.
As I drew back inside to tell Ma what I'd found,
Through the dang roof St. Nicholas came falling down.
He was dressed all in green, from his head to his toes,
And his clothes were all tarnished with the blood of his foes.
A bundle of rally towels was flung on his back,
And he looked like Napoleon Dynamite, but a lot less whack.
His eyes – how they twinkled! His smile it did shine,
His hair was like gold, his demeanor like fine wine.
His sweet little mouth smiled ever so brightly,
And the beard on his chin was scruffy, but not unsightly.
Some bits of sunflower seeds he held in his teeth,
And the hopes of an entire city circled his head like a wreath.
He had a kind face and well-defined biceps,
That never faltered or threw intercepts.
He was humble and kind, and not a tad bit shady,
Unlike his opponent, that pretty boy Tom Brady.
He talked about making his daughter proud and a tear he did shed,
And I knew in that moment Philadelphia had nothing to dread.
This team they would not falter, they'd go straight to work,
And score all the field goals, just to show that Belichick jerk.
Then he laid a hand on my shoulder and told me it would all be alright,
And after putting an underdog mask on, he walked out of sight.
He sprung to his jawn and to his team he did whistle,
And away they all flew like a laser-guided missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as they went out of sight:
"We're bringing a Super Bowl win home to Philly tonight."