‘Twas the Night Before Cuse-mas

A holiday gift to all Syracuse Orange fans from all of us here.

The Night Before Cusemas

'Twas the night before Cusemas, when all through the round house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a Mouse;

The jerseys were hung by the rafters with care,

In hopes that Poetry in Moten soon would be there;

Otto’s Army were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of Malachi’s 3 Googles danced in their heads;

And G-Mac in his 'kerchief, and Red at the rim

Had just settled their brains for a long night of film

When out on the Quad there arose such a clatter,

Otto sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the gate he flew like J Knight

Tore open the exit doors to get a better sight

The moon light on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of platinum to objects below

When what to Otto’s wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight long-armed reindeer,

With a guy in glasses yelling “extend the zone”

Otto knew in a moment Coach Boeheim was home

More rapid than BC Eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, Tyus! now, Matthew! now Oshae and Frank!

On, Paschal! on, Marek! on, Bourama and Howard!

To the top of the arc! Extend and force the pass

Now recover quick! Recover quick! Recover quick to the glass!"

As leaves that before the Hurricanes let fly,

When they meet with an opponent reach to the sky;

So up to the Dome top the coursers they flew

With the sleigh full of rebounds, and Coach Boeheim too—

And then, in a twinkling, Otto heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each giant hoof.

As Otto drew in his head, and was turning around,

Down the to the court Coach Boeheim came with a bound.

He was dressed in a suit from his head to his foot,

And his glasses were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of snide remarks he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes — how they squinted! His snarl, quite scary!

His nose was all crinkled, his nostrils flaring

His droll little mouth was drawn down like a scowl,

And the shirt under his coat was as white as the snow;

The sound he made as he gritted his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and not much of a belly

That look when he scowled, turned Otto’s legs into jelly.

He had a stern look far from a jolly old elf,

And Otto grinned when he saw him, before spinning himself;

The stare from Coach’s eye and a point to his head

Soon let Otto know the image the refs dread

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up to the Dome’s roof he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, threw his coat to the floor

And away they all flew like a run to the Final Four

But Otto heard Boeheim exclaim, as he drove out of sight—

“Merry Cusemas to all, and to all a good night!”