With my annual apologies to Clement Clarke Moore:
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through Brady Tkachuk’s house, not a creature was stirring, not even Matthew editing The Wingmen podcast in the guest house.
The stockings were hung by the chimney at the Canadian Tire Centre with care, in hopes that Santa Claus would deliver a Sens second straight trip to the playoffs there.
Steve Staios was nestled, all snug in his bed.
With visions of making another blockbuster trade dancing in his head.
And Michael Andlauer in his pajamas and Travis Green in his cap, had just settled down for a little pre-game nap.
When out in the parking lot there arose such a clatter.
Kurtis MacDermid sprang from his bed to see if his toughness was needed to assist Tkachuk with this matter.
Away from their beds, MacDermid and Tkachuk flew in a flash. They tore open the shutters and prepared to play the role of Axe and Smash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the lustre of mid-day to hockey equipment below when, to Tkachuk and MacDermid’s wondering eyes, should appear, but a miniature sleigh, and eight players who looked like they could use a post-game beer.
“Now, Sanderson! Now Chabot! Now Stutzle and Pinto!
“On Giroux! On Perron! On Ullmark and On Batherson”
So up to the house-top the players they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys and Santa Claus, too.
And then, in a twinkling, their eyes, MacDermid and Tkachuk, heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As they drew in their heads and were turning around, down the chimney Santa came with a bound.
His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like their arch-rival Corey Perry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as snow.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, which made MacDermid and Tkachuk laugh in spite of themselves.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon allowed the duo to know they had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, to hand out some presents to some of the Senators’ good sports. He was meticulous to avoid anybody claiming, “Santa is a jerk!”
With visions of Olympic gold in Tkachuk’s head, Santa opted to leave his son, Ryder, an Elf on the Shelf instead.
A souvenir bobblehead of the slapshot heard around Leaf Nation seemed appropriate for Ridly Greig. But the kindly, young winger told Santa, “Why don’t you give that to Morgan Rielly instead?”
While Claude Giroux’s list only had a Stanley Cup ring, Santa said, “You’ll have to earn that yourself in the spring.”
Old Saint Nick took another glimpse at his stash to see if there was something so Ullmark didn’t have to spend all his cash. Staios dropped by to say he wanted to make a big splash, but only if there was a budget they didn’t have to slash.
There were skates left for Jake Sanderson, a new set of gloves for Nick Jensen, and Nick Cousins has been good, so a new visor only made sense.
When Santa wondered if a trip to the Senators’ new home at The Flats would happen soon, Cyril Leeder emerged from his office and referred him to StrategyCorp in the boardroom, so they could discuss it on Zoom.
Never wanting to miss the chance to sell tickets, Leeder implored Santa to visit the wickets.
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The jolly old fellow declined at first, but Leeder offered a six-pack in Club Bell to quench his thirst.
Santa made a stop at the concession stand before he hit the road with a long night ahead. After all, there’s nothing like a bag of popcorn before continuing the yearly journey nobody would ever dread.
With his job at the Canadian Tire Centre now complete, Santa gave a nod to Tkachuk and up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team he gave a whistle.
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle, but Tkachuk heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight, “Merry Christmas to Ottawa Senators fans and to all a good night.”