Saturday, June 11, 2011

The Night Before NSD


'Twas the night before National Signing Day, when all through the Dome
Not a Poacher was stirring, not even Urban the Gnome;

The letters of intent were delivered by fax with care,
In hopes that a Top recruiting class will soon be there;

The Irish fans were restless all in their beds,
While visions of Michael Floyd touchdowns danced in their heads;

And Kyle Rudolph on top of his perch, and Braxston Cave with his cap,
Had just reawaken a slumbering giant from its long nap,

When out at the GUG there arose such a clatter,
Irish faithful sprang from their offices to see what was the chatter.

Away to the TV and computer us fans flew like a flash,
Tore open the remote and keyboard like a computer hack.

The glare on the Dome of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of a Top recruiting class below,

When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a slew of LOI faxes, with 24 names that appear,

With a genius old coach, so lively and concise,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Weis.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Blanton! now, Cave! now, Clelland, Crist, Cwynar, Fauria, Filer, and Fleming!

On, Floyd! on Golic! on, Goodman, Gray, Johnson, Knox, Lewis-Moore, McCarthy, McDonald, Newman, Posluszny, and Robinson!

On Rudolph! on Slaughter, Walker, and Williams!

To the top of the Golden Dome! to the top of the Notre Dame Stadium walls!
Now Play Like a Champion Today! Play Like a Champion Today! Play Like a Champion all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the GUG the coursers they flew,
With copies of LOIs, and St. Weis too.

And then, in a twinkling, we heard each name,
The dominance and dedication will be known from this recruiting classes fame.

As we watched on tv, and knew he could turn this ship around,
Down the GUG steps St. Weis came with a bound.

He was dressed all in Blue and Gold, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all Adidas with a new jacket to boot;

A bundle of recruits he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a genius just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, screw you Urban, you ferry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
As his recruiting coup will be best in show;

The accolades of each recruit he held tight in his teeth,
And the trials and tribulations it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had playmakers and defensive stalwarts that will dominate,
Make opponents cringe, when they will dole out their fate.

He was brash and nasty, our kind of coach,

And we could see that, in spite of Mark may, that huge Oaf!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the Irish fans’ wishes; then laughed at the haters, those jerks;

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up to the office he rose;

He sprang to his car, to his team gave a reason,
And away they prepare for one hell of a season! .

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

"Happy NSD to all, and to all a good-night."

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