The Blue Jays gave us a 2015 to remember, bringing countless new fans to baseball and teaching longtime followers to love the game all over again. It’s also brought many of you to Jays Journal over the past year, and for your continued support, discussion and passion for the Blue Jays: We sincerely thank you.
So wherever you may be in the world, and whichever celebration this time of year holds for you and your family, we hope it’s a time you find relaxing, happy and safe.
But before we run off to what the evening holds, let’s gather ’round for a poem.
‘Twas the night before Christmas
’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the city
Not a Blue Jay was stirring, not even dear Gibby
The depth chart was hung in the dugout with care
In hopes that Shapiro soon would be there;
The Blue Jays were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of World Series’ danced in their heads;
And Gibby in the clubhouse, wearing his windbreaker,
Had just settled down with his martini shaker,
When out on the turf there arose such a clatter,
Gibby sprang from the couch to see what was the matter;
Out to the mound he walked with a stumble,
“Well that ain’t just one of them things” he did mumble.
The Jumbotron glowed on the 500 level,
As Gibby sat down, and leaned back to revel;
When what with his wondering eyes did he gaze,
But a miniature sleigh and eight mighty Jays!
With the wisest old driver so lively and quick,
Gibby knew in a moment: “It’s he! R.A. Dick!”;
More rapid than Orioles his Blue Jays they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Jose! now, Kevin! now Devon and Marco!
On, Josh! on, Edwin! on, Marcus and Tulo!
To the top of the East! to the top of the wall!
Now swing away! swing away! swing away all!”
As balls that during the wild knuckler fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the Dome’s roof the Blue Jays they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Dickeylas too—
And then, the perplexed Gibby heard up above,
The crack of a home run, the pop of a glove.
As he rubbed tired eyes, and was turning around,
Down the foul pole came St. Dickeylas with a bound.
He was dressed in his finest professorial look,
And his clothes smelled of mahogany and leather-bound books;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And balls rolled to the backstop when he opened his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His beard shone magnificent, ‘round his neck hung free
One half friendship necklace, which he shared with J.T.
A cigar from Dioner held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
From his sack he pulled a baseball, and threw it with knuckle.
Gibby shook as he laughed, “He’s a vettrun” he chuckled.
The two men there stood, both right jolly elves,
And laughed over cookies, in spite of themselves;
St. Dick told old Gibby of each mighty Blue Jay
And with a sip of Budweiser his worries went away.
St. Dick then walked to the bullpen and went straight to work,
Filled stockings for all, but then turned with a jerk,
“I’ve forgotten one last gift, it’s here in my sleigh,”
And ‘neath the tree placed a box, initialed ‘A.A.’;
He then called for his Jays in the jolliest manner,
And away they all flew, past one brand new banner.
But Gibby heard him exclaim, ere they flew out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, 2016’s in sight!”