clock menu more-arrow no yes mobile

Filed under:

'Twas The Night Before Christmas...

A Visit To Suite Jerry, on Christmas Eve night...


With apologies to Henry Livingston, Jr.


'Twas the Night Before Christmas, and all through the land

Not an agent was stirring, not a fax being scanned.

All the contracts were signed, all the ink was now dry,

And Ryan and Daniels could do nothing but cry.


The best players, all, they had landed new teams

And visions of dollar signs danced in their dreams.

The Angels and Dodgers had made The Big Splash,

Had signed the best players, had spent the most cash.


A quiet had settled throughout Twitter and blogs

In Uncle Bud's office the last deal had been logged.

Most other fans, now, were stuck waiting for Spring

But we Halo fans pined for what Santa'd still bring...


We're used to the stealth, the surprise, the delight.

Maneuvering smartly whilst others sleep tight.

Things cannot be finished, things cannot be done.

Something still is to happen, if we're to be number one!


So with the Missus and kids all snug in their beds

I threw on my coat, and a cap on my head.

Out the front door, with the Big A in sight,

I dashed away, dashed away, into the night.


It seemed like a flash when I arrived at the park

Where the cold concrete walls stood so still in the dark.

But, there! High, in a window alit with a glow

A shadow of a man moved, quick, to and fro!


Official team business? It was hard to believe!

What mysterious sprite would toil on this eve?

As fast as I could I ran to the gate.

Up the stairs, through the door, to that room I went straight.


Then into the office I burst with a thunder

Where there, in his chair, I spied our Boy Wonder!

Yes, impossibly so, but true to his photo

Sat the impish GM known as Jerry Dipoto!


His red coat was fit smartly. His starched shirt freshly white.

His tussled dark hair 'neath his cap combed just right.

Two boots shining brightly, a belt at his waist.

He stood there so calmly, and in fashionably good taste.


He smiled and he winked and he gestured quite grand

As he served up a chair, and he offered his hand.

And I sat and shook his with my mouth all askew,

And he said to me, softly, "I've been waiting for you!"


Confounded, befuddled, I asked how he could know

Who I was, that I'd come, or that I'd spy from below?

"Why, good man" he responded, "it's not in your name,

Nor your motion, nor vision. No, it's your view of the game!"


"As sure as the 'morrow there's one thing that I can

Say for quite certain: it's that you are a fan!

But not just any old fan could you possibly be.

Not the Triple Crown kind, they're asleep by decree."


"It's only that fan who is yet satisfied

Despite 4,000 games seen through Lyin' eyes

Who would dare to imagine my work is not ended

And there remain roster slots still to be mended."


"Indeed" I responded, "of this I'm assured.

At least two moves remain before the Division's secured.

One more arm, I'm convinced, and some depth in the minors

Will seal this off-season and silence the whiners."


"And that's why you came, for the unfinished business.

You had to find out, on this Eve of a Christmas,

If I still have a plan to improve on our chances

Or fix the Wells problem and solve our finances."


"Yes! It's true" I admitted, "I just had to learn

if Scioscia's shuffle of lineups was still a concern.

Or could we move Vernon and get any return?

And if Arte agreed that was money he'd burn?"


"Let me comfort you, friend, so your trip is well spent!

There's more to be done before I'll be content.

See the charts on my walls, and the graphs and the scales.

My computers are working out final details."


"All the secrets I keep, I just cannot reveal.

In me you must trust, have the faith I can deal.

My elves cooking data, my scouts are dispatched,

With my cell phone in hand I have plots being hatched."


"So I have to ask now, if I am going to be done

That you leave me to my work, and you get up and run.

Hop back in your car and head off to your house,

Hug goodnight to your kids, give a kiss to your spouse."


I was sworn then to silence, escorted away.

The gate closed behind me, much to my dismay.

To my car I walked slowly. But from a window up high

I heard a sash open, and Jerry shout to the sky:


"Screw Oakland, Seattle, and screw Texas, too!

Damned Yankees! Damned Red Sox! And damned Boys in their Blue!

The Angels are coming and I'm making this right!

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!!"