HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM THE SONS OF BEN!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the House
Not a legislator was stirring, not even that blouse;

The hopes were all placed by the river with care,
In hopes that a stadium soon would be there;

The SoB’s nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of smoke bombs danced in their heads;
And elders in scarves and I in my cap,
Hoped to avoid another year of this crap,
When out in the Burg there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to BigSoccer to see what was the matter.
Away to the forum I flew like a flash,
Found the right thread and started to bash.
But the news from the Guv of nearing the deal
Resounded so loud, it made Scarf Machine squeal
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But our Jolly ol’ guvner bringing good cheer,
It had finally happened and it sure wasn’t quick,
But we had a team thanks to Jim, Jay, Rob and Nick.
More rapid than SEPTA the questions they came,
And we laughed and laughed as they called Eskin by name;
“Now, Howard! now, Ang! And even Morganti!
On, Comcast, WIP and even 950!
We’ll be at the bridge building a winner!
If we need a wank in a fur coat we’ll invite you to dinner”
We never thought we’d see this they yelled at the skies,
Soccer is a commie sport for girls not guys,
They continued protesting til their faces were blue,
Shit, they might have to talk about something new.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on BigSoccer
New Jersey hates our owner, jeez what a shocker.
They blamed him for MPF and Mamadou Diallo,
when nothing’s changed in 12 years, that seems quite shallow.
They didn’t win before, and haven’t won after
That team in the Meadowlands has been a disaster.
We’ll be perfectly placed ‘tween NY and DC,
And will certainly be the most hated of three.
This news — how it twinkled! An agreement, how merry!
Who will be our first DP, Gerrard or John Terry?
The Governor’s mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And he started to apologize that the process had been slow;
He didn’t realize how much work, how much grunt,
could have been avoided, all they wanted was an extra day to hunt;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That his publicist knew how to hide when he appeared on the telly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old fellow,
He said he wants Athletic to wear Blue and Yellow;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his point,
And said it’s time we had pro soccer in this joint,
He said he was happy it was finally over,
And surprised us all when he sang Four Leaf Clover;
He said one more thing, a championship in 2010,
that’ll piss ‘em off, just like the Sons of Ben.

And I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of my dream,
“Happy Christmas to all, Philadelphia’s team 16.”