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The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before the Christmas Volleyball Tournament, When all through the gym,

Not a creature was stirring, they all wanted to win;

The kneepads were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that heat, would dry them out there.

The players were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of kill-shots danced in their heads;

And the Coach in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains, after a sale, at the GAP,

When out on the beach courts there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my laptop to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a Libero,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the window.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave the lustre of mid-day to the sand courts below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a mini-van, and a team of eight tiny reindeer,

With a little ole' setter, so lively and quick,

I thought for a moment it must be some trick.

More rapid than Eagles his hitters they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

'Now, SMASHER! now, DANCER! now, POWER and VIXEN!


To the top of the net! to the top of the pole!

Now hit away! smash away! smash away all!'

As their practice continued, the balls continued to fly,

When they met with a block, they tooled to the sky,

So up to their armpits the entire team flew,

Before the attack line they hit, and the setter did too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard him yell "roof",

Then ranting and raving, they called him a goof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the court ran the setter, he came with a bound.

He was dressed only in shorts, from his foot to his head,

And his knees were all bloody, "from the diving", he said.

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the hair on his chest was all covered in sand and snow;

He would attack 'down the pipe' as he gritted his teeth,

And the smoke from his spike encircled his head like a wreath;

A bundle of balls he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a middle hitter drooling for a 6-pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His sets were like roses, his best were so cherry!

He had soft little hands and a little round belly,

That shook, when he volleyed, like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I played against him, in spite of myself;

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 work,

And scored all the points; then looked at me with a smirk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the game point rose;

He sprang to his van, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like a spike-serve kinda missile.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

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