‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the organization
Not a player was signing, not even for our elation;
The roster was crafted with care,
In hopes that St. Luhnow soon would be there;
The Astros fans were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of Free Agents and Trades danced in their heads;
And Crane in his checkbook, with eyes on the salary cap,
Wondering which Free Agents Luhnow would tap,
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the CrawfishBoxes I flew like a flash,
Tore open the browser and the keys I did mash.
The moon on the breast reflected a glow,
Gave a lustre of wins on projections to grow,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a new player for which I should cheer,
With a GM so witty with out a sweat on his brow,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Luhnow.
More rapid than eagles the trade rumors came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
”Now, Springer! now, Bregman! now Altuve and pitchers who throw flames!
On, Verlander! on, Cole! on, Mchugh and Josh James!
To the top of the AL West! to the top of them all!
Dreaming of players until the umpire shouts PLAY BALL!”
As rumors that before the announcements fly,
While the number of comments, mount to the sky;
So up the rankings the coursers they flew
With the roster full of players, and St. Luhnow too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard Minute Maid close the roof
The prancing and pawing of twitter was all but proof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
An announcement St. Luhnow came with a bound.
He was dressed all a suit, from his head to his foot,
Smirking he said the Astros could stay put;
A bundle of contracts he had laid for all to see,
There roster was already so good, how could this be.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the hair on his head was as white as the snow;
He had glasses and mischievous grin,
That showed his dimples as his team continued to win.
He was slim and put together, completely himself,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled the roster; then turned away showing his smirk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the rankings he rose;
He sprang to his Front Office, to his team gave a whistle,
And their legacy continued to rise like a missle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to TCB, and to all a good night!”
Ok, enough of my terrible poem and photoshopped Santa. From the bottom of our hearts, the writers want to thank everyone that comes here and contributes. I’m obviously biased, but this is the best baseball blog on the planet due to the community here.
I hope everyone enjoys a wonderful holiday season with their families! Let us know what you would love for Jolly Old Saint Luhnow to bring to the Astros for Christmas!