Twas the Night Before Crootsmas

Twas the night before Crootsmas,

when, from sea to shining sea,

Not a sicko was stirring, not even Liucci;

My cash was stuffed in duffels with care,

In hopes that The Bagman soon would be there;

The 'croots were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of NIL danced in their heads;

And mamma in her jersey, and I in my ballcap,

Had just set down our phones for a long winter’s nap,

When out on Twitter (now X) there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the internet I flew like a flash,

Tore open a browser and Googled a dash.

The moon through the window and onto the screen,

Was bright as a lens flare, a blinding sheen.

When, what my wondering eyes did see,

But a 5 Star flip for the Fightin' Texas Aggies.

With a little old checkmark, so bright and blue,

I knew it meant nothing in this Twitter of new.

More rapid than eagles the predictions they came,

And I browsed, and refreshed, and marked them by name:

"Now, Rivals! now, 247! Now, ESPN, now On3!

Is this really happening, or is it just me?!

To the top of the rankings! To the top of the list!"

I whispered aloud while pumping my fist.

As the offense that before Ol' Jimbo could fly,

When they met a stout run D, would take to the sky;

So out in the Twitterverse the pundits they flew,

With the posts full of shock, and hashtags too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on my phone

The melodic hum of my ringtone.

As I picked up my phone, and unlocked the screen,

Through the window The Bagman appeared at a lean.

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,

And his eyes were covered with sunglasses to boot;

A bundle of bags he had flung on his shoulder,

And if I'm honest, I thought Bagmen were older.

His smile—how it twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, he was a little bit scary!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the fake beard on his chin was as white as snow;

The stump of a cig he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

He'd been sweating a lot, so he was a bit smelly;

He was chubby and plump, a total dadbod,

And I laughed when I saw him, 'cause this was all very odd;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had not been misled;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And he picked up my duffels; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger just under his nose,

He took a quick snort, and his head quickly rose;

He sprang to his Tesla, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like a Tomahawk missile;

But I heard him exclaim, as he continued his route,

"Merry Crootsmas to all, and don't @ the recruits!"

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