'Twas the night before opening faceoff, when all through the league
not a mascot was stirring, not even infamous boomer.
The skates were hung in lockers sharpened with care,
in hopes that a win over Nashville would soon be here.
The fans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of hat tricks danced in their heads,
And Stinger in his sweater, and soldier in his cap,
Had just settled down for a season that wasn't crap-
When out on the internet there arose such a clatter,
posters sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.
Away to HFboards they flew like a flash,
Tore into the regulars, and perfected the bash.
The moon on the breast of a new season,
Gave the lustre of winning to a team unnproven;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an NHL quality goalie, that all could cheer,
With seven defensemen, so relentless and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be some kind of trick.
More rapid than eagles the offense they came,
As Richards whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now! Umberger, now! Brassard, now! Dubinsky, and Atkinson,
"On! Dorsett, on! Calvert, on! Prospal and Johansen;
"To the top of the key! play your role!
"Now back to the point! shoot the puck! into the goal!"
As the practice went on lines began to gel,
And with that it all ended in a good hearty yell;
So off to the locker room they headed,
With a new team identity to be molded:
And then in a twinkling, I heard behind me
Approaching footsteps so quiet and eerie.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
A mysterious figure came with a bound:
He was dressed all in white, waist adorned with a sash,
And his clothes were stained with rum and cigar ash;
A bundle of offerings was flung upon his back,
As he stared and said the Jackets may be on track:
His magic is strong! his luck is fleeting,
But we might not get the season we're seeking;
He puffed his cigar as he bid adieu,
And so ended my meeting with the great Hockey Jobu;
The arena was quiet with Zamobinis on the ice
And the scoreboard lit up so new and nice
The seats were empty, waiting for fans so cheery
All hoping for three goals, chili!
There was Jeff Rimer, a right jolly old buddy,
And I laughed when I saw him for all his commentating folly;
A wink of his eye and a final swig of his beer
Quickly gave me a headache knowing what I'd hear.
He sprung to the broadcast booth, to the camera he faced,
And picked up his microphone, with a loving embrace:
As I heard him exclaim, with emotion to excite-
Happy hockey to all, and to all a good night.