Picks Are In
THE NIGHT BEFORE HOCKEY POOL
By Ranon
‘Twas the night before hockey pool, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The predictions were saved on the computer with care,
In the hopes that the season soon would be there;
The poolies were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of victory danced in their heads;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.
Away to their windows they flew in a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
When what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But four frosted glasses, and a jug of cold beer.
With a bartender, so lively and quick,
They knew in that moment it was time for first pick.
More rapid than eagles, the rounds in the draft came,
They whistled, and shouted and called players by name;
“Now, Crosby! Now, Malkin! Now Stamkos and Kane!
On, Henrik! On Daniel! On Toews and Duchene!
To the top of the standings! To the top of it all!
Now just don’t get injured, don’t even fall!”
In the blink of an eye, the draft was all done,
And they would wait until April to see who had won.
They spoke not a word, as they left Boston Pizza,
Not even the one who drafted Sbisa.
But they all did exclaim, as they drove out of sight,
“HAPPY
HOCKEY POOL TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT.
As usual spreadsheets and notes to the right. And good luck (but not too much).


