Twas the night before the BCS National Championship, when all through the Miami,
Not a player was stirring, not even Jeremy Shelley.
The uniforms were hung in the lockers with care,
In hopes that St. Nick would soon see them there.
The Irish were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Eddie Lacy spun in their heads.
And Bama fans carried out their mischief and I at my laptop
Had just settled our brains for a long night of wrath.
When out on the gridiron there arose such a laughter,
I sprang from my screen to see what was the matter.
Away to the TV I flew in a dash,
Dropped the remote and tripped over my camera flash.
The paint on the freshly manicured lawn
Gave the luster of day to the hash marks shown.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a big plane full of Alabama boys to fear.
With a handsome and wise coach, so smart and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than TJ Yeldon they came,
And he screamed and shouted and called them by name!
“Now Cooper! Now, Fluker! Now, Foster and Fanning!
On Mosley! On, Norwood! On, Lester and McCarron!
To the top of the goal post, to the top of the Bowl,
Now run, pass and tackle away all!”
As dry as the washed up Miami Hurricanes fly,
When the Tide is met with an obstacle, they never sigh.
So up to the occasion they rose so soon,
With a bag full of tricks and St. Nick Saban too!
And then, in the twinkling, I saw on the tube
The suits and bow ties of each player, looking so smooth.
As I watched with my eyes and my jaw hanging down
Through the stadium gates they walked in, without making a sound.
Saban was dressed all in houndstooth, the look on his face pained
And his clothes were all new and shiny ready to be stained.
A host of players had his back,
He looked Boss, with nothing to lack.
His eyes-how they showed no tears,
His face, it showed no fear.
His mouth was in a firm line,
Giving away anything, never breaking a smile.
The playbook he held tight in his little hands,
And the headphones circled his head to drown out the fans.
He had a cool demeanor and a trusty coaching crew,
That jumped to his aide, because they already knew!
The team was pumped and ready to take on the fighting Irish
Saban couldn’t help it, he smiled in spite of himself!
So with a wink of his eye and a pat on the head,
He gave us fans the know, that we had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word to us, but went straight to his work,
And called the plays, knowing Brian Kelly was thinking he’s a jerk.
And laying his head down he broke a tiny smile,
And giving the nod, he was splashed with a pile!
He sprang to his feet, to his team he gave a ‘ROLL TIDE’,
And they all flew away like the first down whistle,
And away they flew from Miami, like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as they flew out of sight,
“Roll Tide to all, and to all a good night!”