Twas the night before World Cup, when all through the country Not an American was sleeping, not even Michael Bradley; The scarves were hung from necks with care In hopes that three points would soon be theirs; The players were nestled, all snug in their beds While visions of bicycle kicks danced in their heads; And Chris in his jersey and I in my cap Had just ordered beers because they were on tap; When out on Youtube there arose such a clatter I rubbed my eyes, does soccer now matter?; Away to Google I flew like a flash Started searching the internet, and doing the math; The talk of the wins on the ESPN show Gave a lustre of hope to players in Sao Paulo; When what to my wandering eyes did appear But a miniature bus, and eight players in USA gear; With a little old driver so lively and certain I knew in a moment he must be St. Jurgen; More rapid than bald eagles his players they came And he whistled and shouted and called them by name: Now, Howard! now, Besler! now Brooks and Jozy! On, Bradley! on, Dempsey! on, Jones and Zusi!; To the top of the group! to the back of the ball! Now kick away! kick away! kick away all!; As players that before contact dive and fly, When they meet with a German, they play to deny; So up to the field the players they flew With the bag full of balls, and St. Jurgen too; And then, on the internet, I heard every spoof The haters and whiners showing their disproof; As I banged on my head, and was feeling downed Down with Ghana, St. Jurgen came through the 3rd time around; He was dressed all in blue, from his head to his toe And his clothes were all pressed, ready to go A bundle of wins he had flung on his back, And he looked like a winner, using the counterattack; His hair—how it glowed! his coaching, how merry! His players like champions, his goalie like Brianna Scurry! His plays in the book were drawn up like a pro, And the players on the field were starting to show The gleam of hope, we hold with great belief, And the memories, they entered my head with grief; He had a stern face and is missing a belly Other countries pointed and laughed, but now theyre jelly. He was smart and tactical, a right jolly old elf, And I screamed when we picked him, I couldnt believe myself; A sub off the bench and a nod of his head Soon gave me Brooks and I had nothing to dread; He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And topped all the standings; the country going berserk, And laying his plan out, which he proposed, Giving a thumbs up, to beat those who opposed; He sprang to his bus, to his team gave a whistle, And away they ran, shot out like a missile. But I heard him exclaim, in belief and confidence within: “I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!”
Posted on: Thu, 26 Jun 2014 02:07:36 +0000
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