'Twas the Night Before Christmas at American Airlines Center

With apologies to Clement C. Moore

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the room was
Not one player stirring, not even Fortunus
Kevlar sock things were hung by the locker of Eaves
And Steve Sumner soaked sweat-sodden gloves with Febreze

The ice girls were resting all snug in a herd
While visions of sugar-free Starbucks recurred
Elsewhere, Nill's patient moustache and Lindy's lip duster
Could finally relax after roster-freeze bluster

When out on the rink there arose such a scraping
That I sprang from my basement-blog bed, ears a-gaping
"Away to the Center!" I hollered with glee
Then I put on the sweater of Rich Peverley

The moon lit the span of the AAC quad
Giving lustre of game-day to midnight so odd
When, what to my bleary-eyed sight should appear
But Victor E. Green in a bunch of Stars gear

Astride a Zamboni so steady and sure
I knew in a moment the ice would be pure
More hound-like than beagles the ice-tracks were wrought
While Vic loudly shouted more politely than Ott

"The dasher! The blue-line! We'll set all aright
For Seguin! For Benn! For a hockey-filled night!
To the top of the boards! To the branded half wall!
For passing on power plays! High-skill plays all!"

As dry heaves before the Cup Final arrive
To those who possession cannot rightly drive
So into the corners the flooding was loosed
By Vic Green's Zamboni (his shirsey read "Goose")

And then with a ringing, I heard in the rafters
The jolly old sound of a proud owner's laughter
As I drew in my head, and was turning around
I saw from the ceiling Gaglardi float down

He was dressed all in Stars bling, from visor to skates
And he yelled with a smile, "OPEN THE GATES!"
Then a bundle of mini-sticks fell from the heavens
And confused children entered, at sixes and sevens

Their eyes, how they shifted! "This place looks so scary!"
But at least only one of them called Kari "Carey"
Yes, the players were there for the impromptu spree
Kids from miles around had been brought here for free

The fog machine cranked up with bass underneath
And the sounds of an organ spread smiles on teeth
Vernon Fiddler's "Bieksa" brought chuckles to bellies
That were soon filled with donuts (the best kinds of "cellies")

Lanes were pristine and clear as Roussel went top shelf
Even six-year-old Katie deked Klingberg himself
A wink of Nuke's eye and a nod of his head
Preceded the no-look pass to young Abed

Hemsky spoke not a word as the kids ran amok
Spezza just kept on giggling and dishing the puck
The Vic laid a paw-thing upon his weird snout
Had Trevor's shot nicked him? Would Vic be knocked out?

Dave Zeis sprang to the scene as the refs gave a whistle
But alarm was called off; Green had dodged Daley's missile!
Then I heard him proclaim, ‘ere he left us that night
"When you kids are done playing, Tom said turn out the light!"