Green Bay Packers: T’was the night before training camp
The Green Bay Packers are just about to open up the 2018 version of training camp. Let’s check in with a fun little poem to kick things off the right way.
T’was the night before training camp, when all through Green Bay,
Not a player was stirring, not even Justin McCray.
The banners were hung by the atrium with care,
In hopes that another title soon would be there.
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Super Bowls danced in their heads.
And McCarthy in his confusion, and Gute with his Ted,
Had just rested their brains for a long season ahead-
When in Lambeau there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the field they flew like a flash,
Tore into the stadium and onto the grass.
The moon on the breast of the newly planted blades,
Gave the luster of mid-day to the blue and silver crusade.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a pretender, who’s nothing to fear.
With a little Golden Tate, leading the militia,
They knew in a moment it must be Matt Patricia.
More rapid than Bears his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now Riddick, now Abdullah, now Blount and Lang,
On Stafford, on Slay, by our undies we’ll hang.
To the middle of the division, we’ll keep on tryin’
Now dash away, dash away, dash away lions.
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Right in their dust, comes another all raggy,
When it’s settled, Gute can see it’s Matt Nagy.
So up to the press box the Chicago coursers flew,
With the sleigh full of L’s and rough beat downs too.
And then in a twinkling, McCarthy heard on the glass,
Chicago trying to get away, get away fast.
As they drew their head and was turning around,
The Bears got out of there in leaps and in bounds.
Then a newcomer arrived dressed all in fur,
And from the north they came, of that they were sure.
A bundle of trophies was flung on their back,
And they looked like a peddler just opening their pack.
Their eyes were focused and they stared straight ahead,
You Like That, one of the goofballs said.
He continued to say he was worth all that money and more,
But he’s never won in the playoffs before.
The stub of a paycheck he held tight in his teeth,
And the ink of the pen was not dry underneath.
He had a man next to him who’s attention to capture,
That was very serious and had the look of a badger.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf
And Gute laughed when he saw him in spite of himself.
A play run by their offense that did nothing but tread,
Soon gave McCarthy to know he had nothing to dread.
Vikings spoke not a word, but went straight to their work,
And fill’d all the seats with their consolation perks.
And thinking quietly in a bit of resent,
Zimmer wondered where all their Lombardi trophies went.
Gute sprung to his defense, to his team gave a roast,
Why you haven’t won any, you have only been toast.
Zimmer replied; you have four more than Minnesota,
And this will be the year you go get anotha.
Then Gute heard them exclaim, ere they drove out of sight,
You win again Green Bay, and have a good night.