'Twas the Night Before Iverson

Twas the night before Iverson, when all through the blog,
Not one fan was happy, not even P-Dawg;
The nasty rumors had spread but with no real fear,
That a thug called The Answer could ever come here;
The young Celtic players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of never touching the ball danced in their heads;
And Doc with grin, and Danny in his brain cap,
Had just settled down for a long Celtic nap,

When out on the court there arose such a clatter,
Doc sprang from his nap to see what the F was the matter.
Away to the gym he flew like a flash,
Tore open the Ga-hen door and tripped on his cash.

The place had the look of some new “bling” all aglow
Gave the luster to all the tattoo’s shining below,
When, what to Doc wondering eyes should appear,
But The Answer himself and his posse of fear,

With a little old headband, and a grin so sick,
Doc knew in a moment it must be that prick.
More rapid than 30 ft jumpers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, Wally! Now Scali! Now Pierce and AL Jeff!
On, Bassy! on Gomes! on, Rondo and West!
To the top of the division! to the top of them alll!
Now pass away pass away! Pass away! Give me the ball!!!!"

He was dressed all in jewelry, from his head to his butt,
And his uniform smelled of $10 crack and 76’er dancers smut;
A bundle of complaints he had flung on his back,
and he looked like an old crippled who couldn’t get to the rack

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His gun how it shined!
He said I don’t practice â€" I hope you don’t mind?
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
His whispered to Doc â€" Hey man, you got any blow?

The stump of a Celtic crack pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a scrawny face and a rotten little grin,
He said: I screwed all my coaches Doc, and I can do it again

He was cocky and pouty, his right nasty old self,
Doc cringed when he saw him, in spite of himself;
A wink of his eye and a smack to his head,
Doc soon knew that he had plenty to dread;

AI spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
In refusing to listen or practice and then acting a jerk,
Laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the Ga-hen bleachers he rose;

Doc raced to the airport, and but gave his old a team a whistle,
And away our old coach flew like the down of a thistle.
But Doc exclaimed, as he drove out of sight,
"I am back to Orlando and you got “The Truth” and “The ANSWER” and I got Wyc’s wife!!!!!

Merry Christmas

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