‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the clubhouse,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The Jays jerseys were hung by the lockers with care,
In hopes that St. Gibby soon would be there.
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Dickey knuckleballs danced in their heads.
And Beeston with his glasses, and I in my GM cap,
Had just settled our trades for a long offseason’s nap.
When out on the Astroturf there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the dome’s switch panel I flew like a flash,
Opened the roof and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the condos below.
When, what should appear to my on-looking gaze,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight former Blue Jays.
With a lively driver that had a smile so gleamy,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Gibby.
More rapid than eagles his old players they came,
As Gibby hooted, and hollered, and called them by name!
“Now Towers! Now, Speier! Now, Koskie and Inglett!
On, Taubenheim! On, Chacin! On Mench and Tallet!
To the top of the dome! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
Like Rajai leaping to take back a home run fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So straight to the front office the players they flew,
With the sleigh full of baseballs, and St. Gibby too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard rattling beats,
The prancing and pawing of each player’s cleats.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Into the office St. Gibby came with a bound.
He was dressed in proper Jays attire, nothing one could scoff,
Except for a windbreaker, which he never took off.
A bundle of baseballs he had flung in a pack,
Which were taken from Lilly, not to be given back.
His teeth-how they twinkled! His smile how merry!
His exuberance not far removed from Zaun Cherry!
His voice rang clearly with a Southern drawl,
And his hair coloured brown like the leaves in the fall.
The sunflower seeds he broke open with his teeth,
Fell down to the ground, encircling his feet.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when engaged in dust-ups, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was fiesty and personable, a personality without stealth,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A tip of the cap and a shake of the hand,
Ensured I made a good choice bringing him back to Jays land.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the lockers, then turned with a jerk.
Removed the billboard sinking ship, to erase team fears,
Anything to stay with the team for more than 4 years!
Then home to San Antonio he went; to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he flew off in ease,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to a Blue Jays World Series!”
My incredibly artistic vision of St. Gibby.
From all of us at Jays Journal, we wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!