‘Twas the night before football
And men everywhere
Were preparing their lineups
And floofing their chair.
Elsewhere in the house
Was a wife, not yet hiding,
But seeking out places
For comfy abiding,
Retreats where she’ll spend
The next 17 Sundays
Avoiding the shouts.
(Wait, they also play Mondays?)
The refs have made final
The script for the season
Including some muscles
To tear without reason.
Now all of us sigh
As we drift off to bed
Hoping this year the Chiefs
Will get bonked in the head.
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The Seahawks were back on the field
With a brand new head coach that we wield.
This is so nee and awesome!
Wait? Our D’s still a possum?
And yep, seems our fate is still sealed.
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There once was a high football tier
That played Winter and Fall every year.
One day a guy tripped
But it wasn’t in the script
But the refs smiled and said “Hold my beer.”
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There once was a streaming station
Who aired a playoff game to the nation.
The broadcast was bad
And no one will be sad
If the ratings show as “Devastation.”
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There once was a team called the Bears
Who thrust my clan into despairs.
They sucked at a sport,
But so do my cohort
So at the end of the day, who cares?
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There once was a Seattle bird team
Who fought a sports battle upstream.
Alas, the sheep rallied
While the birds dilly-dallied
And now they’re an NFL meme.
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There once was a team from New York
That played like a twelve-week-old pork.
They signed Aaron Rodgers
But that poor old codger’s
Injured now, and they ask “What the fork?”
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Today’s the day that giant men
Who some describe as “ballers”
Get called by teams of athletes
To play games for millions of dollars
And older guys who used to play
And that one blonde chick enumerate
The reason why that particular guy
Will make their newfound team great.
Meanwhile, men who’re five-foot-two
But also weigh 300 pounds
Sit in bars and pound their chests
And buy each other rounds.
And somehow through the fog
Of testosterone and concealed erections
This moment matters more to most
Than national elections.
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There once were eight teams
With ambitions and dreams
Of competing for Super Bowl glory.
The boring teams won
And we didn’t have fun
And that’s today’s NFL story.
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If a tree falls in the forest
And no one’s around to see
Will the Packers still pass on receivers
In 2023?
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How much wood would a woodchuck chuck
If a woodchuck could chuck wood?
A woodchuck wouldn’t chuck…
Perhaps he even couldn’t chuck…
Since Russell Woodchuck still sucks. Good.
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Legend speaks of manticores
With the heads of a lion, an eagle, and goat.
Normally you’d be scared of the lion head
But that’s ‘cause the eagles don’t gloat.
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The Daily Travesty 