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A Very Liberty Ballers Christmas

Happy Christmas Liberty Ballers, and to all a good night.


'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' Liberty Ballers
Not a creature was stirring, not even a WIP Caller;
The cell phones were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Doug Collins soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of long twos danc'd in their heads,
And Kwame in his 'kerchief, and Hawes in a bandana,
Had just settled our brains for a slice of Americana -
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Hawes sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the Wells Fargo Center Hawes flew like a flash,
Tore open the doors, and adjusted his stache.
The lights on the breast of the new painted court,
Gave the luster of mid-season to the basketball sport;
When, what to Hawes wondering eyes he sees through blurs,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny Sixers,
With a big man driver, who looked not glum,
Hawes knew in a moment it must be St. Bynum.
More better than him his teammates they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name:
"Now! Jrue, now! Thad, now! Evan and Swaggy,
"On! J-Rich, on! Maalik on! Dorell and Ivey;
"To the end of the court! To the top of the rim!
"Now shoot away! shoot away! Shoot not on a whim!"
As dry balls that before the wild Swaggy shoot,
When they meet with a fade away, near to the hoop;
So up to the house-top the baskets they flew,
With the sleigh full of balls - and St. Bynum too:
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The running and jumping of each little foot.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
From the rafters St. Bynum came with a bound:
He was dress'd all in fro, his style one of masters
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with confetti from the rafters;
A bundle of basketballs was flung on his back,
And he look'd like a superstar ready to lead the pack:
His eyes - how they twinkled! His dimples: how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the afro on his head shone like a halo;
The point of a ball he rang around his finger,
And the cheers that ensued like after an Utley dinger.
He had a broad face, and a little beat-up knee
That bruised when he bowl'd, like a bowl full of jelly:
He was tall and muscular, a right dominant center,
And Hawes laugh'd when he saw him give his minutes an ender;
A nod of St. Bynum's head let Hawes know he was no stranger
And soon gave him to know his job was in danger.
St. Bynum spoke not a word, but went straight to his routine,
And ran pick-and-rolls; then made contact on a screen,
And laying the basketball inside the white hoop
And giving a nod, the Sixers they gave a whoop.
He sprung to the playoffs, to his team gave a championship,
And away they all celebrated, with the WIP Callers nary a quip:
But Hawes heard St. Bynum exclaim, down Broad Street out of sight -
Happy Christmas Liberty Ballers, and to all a good night.

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