CoachClipboard
12-24-2008, 03:47 AM
I hope everyone in every league has a safe and happy Holiday and New Years! I wrote this tonight to give you a chuckle and get everyone in the spirit of things for a day or so.
Peace! Enjoy!
Santa’s Christmas Hockey Practice!
(To the tone of “The Night Before Christmas” by Henry Livingston)
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the rink
Everything was quiet and dark and had that old hockey stink.
The sticks were all lined up, and taped with great care,
Jerseys sloppily hung, which no one would wear.
The players were all cozy, and imbibing in cheer,
With loved ones and friends, not concerned with their gear.
And coaches and trainers, taking a much needed break,
From tough guys and whiners and stick wielding flakes.
When out on the sport court there arose such a clatter,
Not cheering, or sirens, smack talk or chatter .
But the heavenly noise of wood smacking puck,
And that sound goalies love when a crossbar is struck.
The single light cast over a six by four goal,
Gave an image of that magic that touches all players soul.
When, what parked on center rink should appear,
But a big old style sled and eight freakin deer!
With a big, white bearded fat man, skating deceptively quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
The deer standing there watching, and wanting some game,
He whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Orr! now, Bourque! now, Mario and Coffey!
On, Howe! On, Hull! on Messier and Gretzky!
To the top crease! to the glass and the wall!
Now pick up your sticks, and try not to fall!"
As their wheels hit surface, man could they fly!
Come on! They have four legs! Need you ask why?
So up the rink they raced and they flew,
Giving and go’ing, and St Nicholas pursued.
And then, in a heartbeat and on a sick move,
A spin and a toedrag, OK, it was a hoove.
out of position on “D” and was turning around,
A now “owned” St Nicholas came with a bound.
He tried to get up, but could not get a foot,
He was heavy, looked tired and flat out kaput.
And the hot-dogging reindeer, turned towards the net,
He fired the puck into the goal like a fast moving jet.
Old Santa just sat there with a big grin!
All proud of his minions who were thirsting to win!
Not caring at all that he was just burned,
To a great coach like him, it was the lesson they learned.
That hockey isn’t about fans screaming and cheers,
Or TV, big contracts, and outshining your peers,
It is about the seldom thought of reasons we all play,
Like friendships, and passion all players display.
The feel of the skates as you roll down the floor,
The pass you make to a teammate, just before they score!
How you think about hockey constantly all through the day,
The buildup, the daydreams, that get us that way.
So he spoke not a word, but got up on his skates,
And turned to his team, calling all eight.
“Practice is over, We got much work to do!”
They packed up their sticks, gear and pucks and away they all flew!
While flying away, he looked down from that sled,
And yelled to me “Coach? Get that lesson in their heads.
Hockey is fun, as it must always remain!
Now Merry Christmas to you, and have a good game!
By Todd Wiley
Harrisburg Lunatics
Peace! Enjoy!
Santa’s Christmas Hockey Practice!
(To the tone of “The Night Before Christmas” by Henry Livingston)
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the rink
Everything was quiet and dark and had that old hockey stink.
The sticks were all lined up, and taped with great care,
Jerseys sloppily hung, which no one would wear.
The players were all cozy, and imbibing in cheer,
With loved ones and friends, not concerned with their gear.
And coaches and trainers, taking a much needed break,
From tough guys and whiners and stick wielding flakes.
When out on the sport court there arose such a clatter,
Not cheering, or sirens, smack talk or chatter .
But the heavenly noise of wood smacking puck,
And that sound goalies love when a crossbar is struck.
The single light cast over a six by four goal,
Gave an image of that magic that touches all players soul.
When, what parked on center rink should appear,
But a big old style sled and eight freakin deer!
With a big, white bearded fat man, skating deceptively quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
The deer standing there watching, and wanting some game,
He whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Orr! now, Bourque! now, Mario and Coffey!
On, Howe! On, Hull! on Messier and Gretzky!
To the top crease! to the glass and the wall!
Now pick up your sticks, and try not to fall!"
As their wheels hit surface, man could they fly!
Come on! They have four legs! Need you ask why?
So up the rink they raced and they flew,
Giving and go’ing, and St Nicholas pursued.
And then, in a heartbeat and on a sick move,
A spin and a toedrag, OK, it was a hoove.
out of position on “D” and was turning around,
A now “owned” St Nicholas came with a bound.
He tried to get up, but could not get a foot,
He was heavy, looked tired and flat out kaput.
And the hot-dogging reindeer, turned towards the net,
He fired the puck into the goal like a fast moving jet.
Old Santa just sat there with a big grin!
All proud of his minions who were thirsting to win!
Not caring at all that he was just burned,
To a great coach like him, it was the lesson they learned.
That hockey isn’t about fans screaming and cheers,
Or TV, big contracts, and outshining your peers,
It is about the seldom thought of reasons we all play,
Like friendships, and passion all players display.
The feel of the skates as you roll down the floor,
The pass you make to a teammate, just before they score!
How you think about hockey constantly all through the day,
The buildup, the daydreams, that get us that way.
So he spoke not a word, but got up on his skates,
And turned to his team, calling all eight.
“Practice is over, We got much work to do!”
They packed up their sticks, gear and pucks and away they all flew!
While flying away, he looked down from that sled,
And yelled to me “Coach? Get that lesson in their heads.
Hockey is fun, as it must always remain!
Now Merry Christmas to you, and have a good game!
By Todd Wiley
Harrisburg Lunatics