On the way home from work I started thinking that it was the night before game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. I decided to grab my phone and start orally recording a poem (loosely to the beat of “Twas the Night Before Christmas”). Here’s what I came up with. Not perfect, but hey, I was driving. Go Bruins!
Twas the night before game 7, I lay pondering the fate
Of how my team would fair, in a sport done on skates
B-lievers were nestled, nervously in bed
With dreams of a Stanley Cup hoist o’er head
I curled up in my sweater, and whispered a plea,
That the Stanley Cup winners, would wear a spoked-B.
And back in New England, I needn’t be told
My fellow B-lievers wore black and wore gold.
When down in the hall, I heard the crack of a door,
I sprang from my bed as I heard a loud roar.
I ran down the stairs to see what was abuzz,
And found a tall creature standing, all covered in fuzz.
He didn’t say much, but it knew from his stare,
This was none other than the famed Bruins bear.
His eyes didn’t twinkle, no cheeks like a rose,
He was brown, he was hairy, with a long snoutish nose.
“Score David Krejci, and Ryder, and Marchand,
Lead us Big Chara, and Recchi, and Bergeron,
Show us your heart, young Lucic and Seguin,
Prove to the world this is your moment to win.
Be strong on the blue line, Tomas and Dennis,
The same message goes out to Adam and Ference,
Be in the moment Shawn, Paille and Boychuk,
Timmy Thomas protect as you dive for the puck.
Shane Hnidy and Kampfer, and goaltender Rask,
You are Boston Bruins, with or without mask.
In all that you do, be a part of this team,
As you bleed black and gold and follow this dream.
Campbell and Kelly, Peverley and Kaberle
You have made it this far, continue to play.
Work hard in your battles in corners and walls,
Now grind away! Grind away! Grind away all.
Do it for Chief, Cam, Ray, Dit and Orr,
Do it for Hitchman, Milt, Terry and Shore.
Do it for Savvy, and the pride in your chest,
Do it for Horton, and the ‘B’ on your crest.”
With a tear in my eye, matched by one in his fur,
Our hearts filled with longing Lord Stanley could cure.
We both knew our mission, this Game 7 Eve,
No matter what happened, we had to B-lieve.
“I’m off to Vancouver” he said with a roar,
He waved his right paw, and made way for the door.
As I watched the bear travel, away from my sight,
I heard him say surely “Tomorrow’s our night.”