Twas the Night Before Andy Reid

25 12 2008

By Mike Gill

Twas the day called Christmas and all through the league, people laughed and they snickered at fat Andy Reid. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care with hopes that after the Dallas game he soon won’t be there.

The offensive players were all snug in their beds, but nightmares about passing kept dancing in their heads. And Andy with his play-sheet and Marty wearing his head-set, still couldn’t figure out that running would be best.

When out at the Link there arose such a clatter, Jeffery Lurie sprang from his suite to see what was the matter.  Up to his window he flew like a flash, to make sure Andy Reid was there, including his mustache.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, gave the fans reasons to think they would give the pass the heave-ho.  When, what to the fans wondering eyes should appear, but a shotgun formation and and a set of wide-outs and a tight end who have hands like reindeer.

With the fat old driver, so boring and stubborn.  The fans all knew at that moment that it must be Andy Reid.  More rapid then eagles his passes they came. And he whistled, and shouted, and called his wide-outs by name.

Now Jackson! Now Baskett!  Now Curtis and Lewis! On Reggie!  On Jason on LJ and Celek!  To a yard short of the first down marker or end zone to the dismay of all!

In the fall season when the leaves fall, the fans aren’t as mad at Reid for passing the ball.  When met with an obstacle like wind and rain running the ball got Reid three weeks of fame!

And then in, a twinkling, the fans heard on the roof.  The prancing and pawing of wide-outs with hands shaped like hoofs.  As Reid thought of a play to call in his head, the fans booed him and hissed him, but he still wouldn’t bend. 

Reid was dressed in all black, from his head to his foot.  But his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.  A bundle of pass plays he called from the sideline.  As he called the plays he could care less about tomorrow’s paper and  byline.

His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples were merry.  His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.  On each ensuing play that he continued to throw, all the fans at think Link would say..Hey Reid its time to go!

The play sheet he held in the palm of his hand, while smoke came from the ears of each and every fan.  He has a round face and a little round belly.  But fans wouldn’t laugh, and they couldn’t stop yelling.

He is chubby and plump, but stubborn as hell.  And on each and every pass play the fans continued to yell.  A wink of his eye and a turn of his head.  Soon enough another play-call we’ll all dread.

Reid spoke not a word, but went right back to work, he called a pass-play and then another, but none of them worked!  Injuries he says each and every week, but its seems its the play-calling he is unwilling to tweak.

So he sprang to the Link, to his team and gave them a whistle, yet he still threw the ball all over even though the media and fans went to blow this operation up with a missile.  As another game came to a close and ball after ball hit the slate, he stood at the podium and said, I have to get this straight.

In 10 years of coaching he continued to pass, but a Super Bowl trophy the fans could never have basked.  But the owner doesn’t care, he wants green, not the uniform color, the sweet smell of greed.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of PCP Nation!!!!!

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One response

28 12 2008
John Leon

That was absolutley spot on…Never knew you were that funny Mike.

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