How the Wilpon Stole Metsmas
by Dr Z
Every Met fan
Down in City-ville
Liked Metsmas a lot…
But the Wilpon,
Who lived just North of City-ville,
The Wilpon hated Metsmas! Every Metsmas season!
Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be that his head wasn’t screwed on quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that his Brooklyn Dodgers jersey was too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his wallet was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason,
His heart or his jersey,
He stood there on Metsmas Eve, hating the fans,
Staring down from his SNY fancave, making expensive ticket plans.
At the warm lighted windows below in their town.
For he knew every fan down in City-ville beneath
Was busy now, hanging a Mets-branded wreath.
“And they’re hanging their Blue & Orange stockings!” he snarled with a sneer.
“Tomorrow is Metsmas! It’s practically here!”
Then he growled, with his stubby fingers nervously drumming,
“I MUST find a way to keep Metsmas from coming!”
For, tomorrow, he knew…
…All the fan girls and boys
Would wake up bright and early. They’d rush for their toys!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
That’s one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the Fans, young and old, would sit down to a feast.
And they’d feast! And they’d feast!
And they’d FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
They would start on Shake Shack, and rare Keith Mex Burgers
Which was something the Wilpon couldn’t stand any further!
They’d do something he liked least of all!
Every fan down in City-ville, the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, with Metsmas bells ringing.
They’d stand hand-in-hand. And the fans would start Cheering!
They’d cheer! And they’d cheer!
AND they’d CHEER! CHEER! CHEER! CHEER!
And the more the Wilpon thought the more he raised price of beer
The more the Wilpon thought, “I must stop those sick queers!
“Why for over 12 years I’ve put up with it now!
I MUST stop Metsmas from coming!
Then he got an idea!
An awful idea!
GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
“I know just what to do!” The Wilpon Laughed in his throat.
And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Wilpon trick!
“With this coat and this hat, I’ll look just like Saint Nick!”
“All I need is a reindeer…”
The Wilpon looked around.
But since reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found.
Did that stop the old Wilpon…?
No! The Wilpon simply said,
“If I can’t find a reindeer, I’ll make one instead!”
So he called his son Jeff. Then he took some red thread
And he tied a big horn on top of his head.
He loaded some bags
And filled them with Madeoff money
On a ramshakle sleigh
And he hitched up old Jeffy.
Then the Wilpon said, “Giddyap!”
And the sleigh started down
Toward the homes where the Fans
Lay a-snooze in their town.
All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.
All the fans were all dreaming of championships without care
When he came to the first house in the square.
“This is stop number one,” The old Wilpon Claus hissed
And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist.
Then he slid down the chimney. He weighed a ton.
But if Santa could do it, then so could the Wilpon.
He got stuck only once, for an hour or two.
Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue
Where the little Who stockings all hung in a row.
“These Mets stockings,” he grinned, “are the first things to go!”
Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,
Around the whole room, and he took every present!
Reyes! And Beltran! Niese! Wright!
Ike Davis! The pitchers! Even Duda in Right!
And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Wilpon, very nimbly,
Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney!
Then he slunk to the icebox. He earned the Fans’ ire!
He took the Shake Shacks! He took Keith’s Mex Burger!
He cleaned out that icebox quick; in a jiffy.
Why, that Wilpon even took the Fans R A Dickey!
Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.
“And NOW!” grinned the Wilpon, “I will stuff up the tree!”
And the Wilpon grabbed the tree, and he started to shove
When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small Fan!
Little Cindy Beartran, who was not more than two.
The Wilpon had been caught by this little Who daughter
Who’d got out of bed for a cup of cold water.
She stared at the Wilpon and said, “Santy Claus, why,
“Why are you taking our Metsmas tree? WHY?”
But, you know, that old Wilpon was so smart and so slick
Although he couldn’t run a franchise worth a dick!
“Why, my sweet little tot,” the fake Santy Claus lied,
“There’s a light on this tree that won’t light on one side.
“So I’m taking it home to my workshop, my dear.
“I’ll fix it up there. Then I’ll bring it back here.”
And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted her head
And he attempted to sell her a $20 million share.
And when Cindy-Beartran Who went to bed with her cup,
HE went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up!
Then the last thing he took
Was the log for their fire.
Then he went up the chimney himself, what a cheap old liar.
On their walls he left nothing but hooks, and some Mets Fliers.
And the one speck of food
The he left in the house
Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse.
He did the same thing
To the other Fans’ houses
to the fire
For the other Fans’ causes!
It was quarter past dawn…
All the Fans, still a-bed
All the Fans, still a-snooze
When he packed up his sled,
Packed it up with their pitcher! The catchers! The gamers!
The hitters! And the defenders! The coaches! The players!
Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mount Flushing,
He rode to the tiptop to dump it!
“Poo-poo for the Fans!” he was wilpon-ish-ly humming.
“They’re finding out now that no Metsmas is coming!
“They’re just waking up! I know just what they’ll do!
“Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
“Then all the fans down in City-ville will all cry BOO-HOO!”
“That’s a noise,” grinned the Wilpon,
“That I simply must hear!”
So he paused. And the Wilpon put a hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low. Then it started to grow…
But the sound wasn’t sad!
Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn’t be so!
But it WAS merry! VERY!
He stared down at City-ville!
The Wilpon popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Lawyer down in City-ville, the tall and the small
Were litigating, They were after the payers after all!
He HADN’T stopped Metsmas from coming!
But this time the lawyers said, it won’t be the same!
And the Wilpon, with his wilpon-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so?
They came not for hitters! They came not for pitchers!
“They didn’t even come for my butt scratchas!”
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Wilpon thought of something he hadn’t before!
“Maybe money can’t,” he thought, “just come from a Clubhouse store.
“Maybe next Metsmas…perhaps.. I won’t have any more!”
And what happened then…?
Well…in City-ville they say
That the Wilpon’s small wallet
Shrank three sizes that day!
And the minute his wallet started feeling more tight,
He whizzed his bladder’s load throughout the bright morning light
And he borrowed money from Bud, and from banks he did resort
The Wilpon knew his time was short!
Merry Xmas to all
Happy Hannukah too
To all Mets fans, Christian, Atheist, Muslim, Jew.
Take light from this parody this holiday season
but know a more joyous one is soon to harken
The Wilton story is tragic, Saul Kats is too
while we make light, remember they’re human too
They made mistakes and are paying, with us along for the ride
the Mets may not be solvent, but they may take it in stride
In time past with his expectations
the results ended with us in deflation
Perhaps this year the opposite will be true
we expect so little from our orange and blue
perhaps a change is coming, then again perhaps not
what’s on the field matter most, so let’s see our lot
take joy one and all, and maybe you can conceive
that tomorrow is a mystery, YA GOTTA BELIEVE!
from Robert Z & the entire KinersKorner.com gang