'Twas the Night Before WBC (A Poem)
Narrated by Kirk Gordon
Written by Connor Jay
'Twas the night before WBC, when all through the courts
Not a player was stirring, not even their shorts;
The mesh was hung, by the rim with care,
In hopes that the basketballs, would be filled with air
The campers were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of 3 pointers, swished in their heads;
And the coaches in their kicks, some with the strap,
whistles in hand, ready ASAP,
When on top of the backboard, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the baseline, to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I ran like Steve Nash,
I called Steph and Klay, to see what went Splash.
The trophy on the mantle, displayed for the show
Gave the lustre of sunshine, to the Toon Squad below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But the Greek Freek, and four other Milwaukee deer,
With a little old teacher, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be the Raptors’ Coach Nick.
More rapid than Magic and 76ers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Lowry! now, Serge! now, Danny and Freddy!
On, Powell! on Pascal! on, Gasol, be steady!
To the top of the arc! to the top of the key!
Now pass! pass! pass it for 3!"
Dry playoff runs before, because of that LeBron guy,
With LBJ headed west, this was the Raptors time,
So up to the 6, the King of the North flew,
Bid farewell to DeMar, and Jakob Poeltl too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the CN Tower
That load management was happening, every other hour.
As I dapped up Norm, and was turning around,
Down the elevator Sir Drake came with a bound.
He was dressed all in checks, from his head to his feet,
And his crew was in owls, dropping new beats;
Another man joined him, with the team on his back,
And he acted like a robot, emotions that lack.
His eyes -- how they stared, his cornrows how tight!
His hands were like claws, his Eurostep left to right!
His New Balances were laced and tied with a bow,
And the presence he had was as large as Jon Snow;
The answer to free agency he held tight in his teeth,
And the rumours kept coming about the southern beach;
Drake wanted the chips with the dip inside his belly,
Lowry shimmied and shook, finishing layups with jelly.
Masai made a big gamble, risking himself,
But it all paid off, adding hardware to the shelf;
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
I knew the future had nothing to dread;
Kawhi spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the hoops; then turned with a jerk,
The young basketball players will remember just what he made,
And buckets will be had, and the board man gets paid;
He sprang for liftoff, and into the sky,
And away the champs left, with their newfound fun guy.
But I heard him exclaim, the mystery of the Claw,
HAPPY WBC TO ALL, AND TO ALL...