The holiday season can be the worst.
Shoppers chop-block each other in the name of buying children's toys; flights are cancelled by the bushel; second cousins come crawling out of the crown molding to eat your food and occupy the bathrooms.
It's a hassle, to say the least—but there are silver linings.
Football is played in the snow, and hot cocoa has never tasted better. Best of all are the Christmas movies creeping back onto network television. Holiday classics are the ultimate reward for putting up with the slush and crush outside Best Buy and a much-needed reminder that some things never change.
With that, the following are sports doppelgangers for a number of classic Christmas movie characters—because it's not the holiday season until someone makes a Scut Farkus comparison.
"Coming to theaters, winter 2014: LeBron James and the Bench Who Trolled Christmas."
I don't know what it will take to make it happen, but I want to see LeBron James and Kevin Hart ("Kevo the Elf") save Santa from a swarm of surly NBA second-stringers.
Let's get James Cameron on the horn now.
It's almost too easy.
Sean Payton and Ralphie share the same blue eyes, mischievous smirks and dislike for martial punishment.
Unlike Ralphie, however, Payton had to sit with soap in his mouth for an entire season.
While aesthetically similar, Ricky Rubio and Bernard the Elf are about as different as two people can be.
Rubio is the type of guy who jumps your car battery and tells you not to be sad "because the electricity is coming back home."
Bernard is the guy who leaves your headlights on all night and gets mad at you because your car's lights don't turn off automatically.
Andy Dalton seems like a nice guy, but we all know that inside every redhead lurks a Scut Farkus waiting for a chance to exact his revenge.
I can only imagine Brandt Snedeker is inundated with "Hermey the Elf" jokes every holiday season.
Don't listen to them, Brandt. Hermey might've been a crappy toy maker, but dentists are few and far between on the North Pole.
He was providing an invaluable service to a grossly underserved population of elven bullies. They would all be toothless stinking gnomes had Hermey not put down the hammer and started reading up on root structure and local anesthesia.
The point is that Snedeker looks like an elf—an industrious and forward-thinking elf.
These are two grizzled veterans who would prefer to just "kick [some bleep] and get out of here."
I'd be more afraid sitting on John Tortorella's lap than on Bad Santa's, however.
"Don't worry about it, Clark. A little tree water won't hurt 'em."
I'm not familiar with Dan Mullen's pet situation, but based on his curmudgeonly facial expressions, I could see Mississippi State's head coach owning and cherishing a hound named Snot.
I'm sorry, David Akers.
I know it was the Snowpocalypse out there, but you fell on your bottom while kicking. That makes you Charlie Brown: Christmas edition.
Constantly bothered and perennially disappointed, Bill Belichick is the Heat Miser without the fire.
He might not burn you, but fumble the ball just once and you'll feel the heat.
They're nice guys until you push them too far.
Clark Griswold has a longer fuse than Jim Harbaugh, but when they blow up, both men will leave of trail of broken appliances, eggnog and hushed awkwardness in their wake.
Like his claymation alter ego, Logan Mankins survives on a steady diet of cornmeal, gunpowder and guitar strings.
It's almost like Yukon Cornelius decided one day that he was tired of protecting reindeer and would rather block for quarterbacks.
Patrick Kane is the type of guy who triple dog dares you to do something and then bails on you when the teacher and/or authorities show up.
"Haha, Calvin Johnson fell in the snow! He looks like a snowman! That must feel awful..."
I can't be the only one who thought this after seeing Johnson eat powder during Sunday's "Snow Bowl" in Philadelphia.
Aesthetically speaking, Lou Holtz and the Snow Miser look enough alike to be cousins.
That relationship is unlikely, however, as The Year Without a Santa Claus came out in 1974, while Holtz was born in 1937.
That makes Holtz 37 years older than the Snow Miser, and thus ancient enough to be his father or grandfather—you know, if people had claymation children.
The point is, Lou Holtz is old.
Tony Romo mastered layering on Monday Night Football, but that was about it.
The grumpiest, oldest coach in the league is the only man I'd ever want to see play Ebenezer Scrooge.
Seriously, an all-NFL version of A Christmas Carol needs to happen. I'll start the casting call with an invitation to Rob Gronkowski.
Grab those crutches, Gronk, and repeat after me: "God bless us, everyone!"
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