‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through Qualcomm,
Two teams met to duel, perhaps with aplomb.
The jerseys were hung at the lockers with care
In knowledge that the players soon would be there.
The rooters were nestled all snug in their seats,
While holiday songs left them tapping their feet.
And LT in his helmet, and his coach in a cap,
Had much work to do, and scant time to nap.
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter.
Away to the front row I flew like a flash.
Tripping over a stair, to ground with a crash.
The glow of the floodlights on the grass at the field
Let all of us know this was quite the big deal.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rickety bus overflowing like beer.
With a crafty young driver turning ’round the bends,
I knew that it must be Jay Cutler and friends.
More rapid than eagles his teammates they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“Run, Selvin! Run, Marshall! Run, Scheffler and Andre!
“Block, Daniel! Block, Lepsis! Block, Myers and Montrae!
“To the end of the field, to the other end zone!
“Now let’s snatch a win and scurry back home!”
As defenders before this offense fall down,
All chasing and grabbing no more than the ground,
So into the red zone the Broncos they flew,
With a huddle filled with dreams and a quarterback too.
And then in a moment I heard many feet;
The cutting and clawing of each little cleat.
As I typed in my blog and was turning around,
Down the field Jay Cutler came with a bound.
He was dressed all in white, looking ready to pass,
And his clothes were all sullied with stains from the grass.
A howitzer right arm sprang out of his shoulder;
He led with maturity of someone much older.
His eyes — how they darted! His arm cannon strong;
His poise was unshaken; his passes flew long.
His Beatle haircut peeked out from his helmet
And the zip on his passes made scores a safe bet.
The brown oblate ball zipped forth like a bullet;
If hands couldn’t catch it, it’d go right down the gullet.
He had a trim face and no trace of a belly;
But his arm and receivers turned defense to jelly.
He was cool and composed, a quite mellow QB;
And his growth as a leader was something to see;
A wink of his eye and a flick of his wrist
Meant wins would soon come, too many to list.
He barked out, “Hut!” and dropped back to throw,
And passes flew promptly where he thought they would go.
And pointing a finger into the end zone,
He said to young Scheffler, “Take this one on home.”
He sprang from the huddle, to his team gave a whistle,
And downfield they all dashed, as quick as a missle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he jogged out of sight,
‘Happy Christmas to all, and next year will be bright.”
We’re settled in at Qualcomm Stadium, with a smattering of players in the early stages of pre-game warmups. More to come over the next five or so hours.