LOUISVILLE, Ky. (WDRB) -- Roger Angell, a hero of mine, the longtime fiction editor and sports writer for The New Yorker magazine, used to write a column he titled "Greetings" just before New Year's. It was well in keeping with the magazine's literary and humorous roots.
This cheap knock-off is not. Yet, I like to think Angell wouldn't have minded keeping his tradition alive. He died in 2022 at the age of 101. So with apologies, my attempt at a 2024 year-end poem.
The rhymes are loose and the meter is bad. These fancy new web pages can't handle single-spaced copy, nor verse breaks or indentions. Whatever. My heart, if not my keyboard, was in the right place.
Greetings sports fans, ‘round the web,
Or in the app-osphere instead,
To every reader of this site
On this specific Silent Night
I take this pause to share a verse
To those for better or for worse
Who stirred the sports drink in these parts
Or stirred, at least, our sporting hearts.
Season’s Greetings, Kenny Payne,
Your two-year tenure down the drain,
Your love and fight were all-embracing
But, sadly, dreams you’re still a-chasing.
Farewell, John Calipari, too,
All I can say is “Woo, Pig, Soo!”
And marvel at your swift demise
Once Gohlke’s threes rained from the skies.
We learned, at last, that you are mortal
When all received the gift of portal.
I’d be remiss, on this Noel,
Not to mention NIL.
And give thanks, from every nation
For roster-wide rejuvenation.
We await the players’ games,
Whether or not we know their names.
Welcome, now, to Kelsey, Pat
You’ll find a way to skin a cat,
Though Kentucky found new hope,
From a man they call Mark Pope
I make a toast and don tuxedo,
To rivalry devoid of ego,
If not an end to outright hate,
A thing I’d like to abrogate.
A fond Noel to Mystik Dan,
To Ken McPeek, to all that ran
At Churchill Downs, from turf to Mansion,
And navigated track expansion.
To Bob Baffert, ban now lifted
Welcomed back, and Christmas gifted
An end to years of disappointment,
Just, this time please skip the ointment.
Best wishes, too, to Scheffler, Scottie.
You’ll not be on the list of Naughty.
Nor will you find beneath your tree,
A Valhalla felony.
Cheers to winner Xander Schauffele,
Deck Jeff Walz with boughs of holly.
To Mark Stoops, we raise a cup,
And hope that all will pony up.
For Busboom Kelly’s season great,
Our wish for good health comes too late,
But neither Santa nor reindeer
Can bring a gift that tops DeBeer,
Nor Scott nor Luper, Charite,
Nor volleyball’s resiliency.
No ‘ship, but this accomplished mission:
A yuletide Final Four tradition.
For Y. Nuguse, Olympic Bronze.
For R. Pitino, of St. John’s,
A return to Big Blue Madness
Woke up the preseason drabness.
For Indiana’s Curt Cignetti
Break out the bubbly and confetti.
If baffled by these verses frugal,
It’s what I do. You can Google.
Jeff Brohm bestowed a gift of love.
He brought back the Cup of Gov.
The hour is late, the end is near,
So this reflection of the year,
Needs just one thing before I’m through,
A hearty thanks to all of you,
From every fanbase, town and creed,
Who always click and watch and read,
Regardless of your temp or mood,
Without you all, I’d sure be screwed.
Merry Christmas, all of you,
And a Happy New Year, too.
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