Santa Delivers: Visions of Tennis, 2009

Twas the night before Christmas…and all through the attic…

Tennis creatures practiced, trying not to turn static...

Their stockings were hung by the chimney with care…

And each player had a wish—a special tennis prayer…

Roger was beating his little toy drum…

Singing so softly, “I must be number one!”

Marching in place feeling very assured,

Saying, “I have to be first – not second or third.”

Rafa was pacing and charging the net

With his racket in hand like a steel bayonet

He was singing and shouting—“You all agree -

If ya wanna be number one—ya gotta take from me!”

Joker pops up from the chimney with glee…

“No problem, dude, just look at your knees!

You are finished, my Spanish young friend

Your time at the top is just about to end!”

Guffawing Murray sits in a chair,

“Nobody is winning without a care…

I will be finishing the year number one

Take that to the bank, you son of gun!”

“Oui, Oui!” shout the French men, in protest,

“You cannot exclude us – we are the best!”

We will not be overlooked in 2009

Because of our form and accents divine!

So Gasquet, Tsonga, Monfils and Simon

The French musketeers aligned or alone –

Stand tall in the ranks of the tennis elite…

Not willing to suffer at the hands of defeat…

Del Potro assesses the other creatures on hand

Hoping he gets a shot again at the Promised Land;

Where his strokes are perfect and his timing unique

Where the result is often an opponent’s defeat…

“Wait a darn minute here,” protests Roddick…

“I think you forget I hold a pretty mean stick…

Just because I am down doesn’t mean I’m out

I’ll get back to the top of the game, no doubt!”

Davydenko stood quietly at the edge of the room,

Hitting a ball against the wall with a broom…

He struck it high and he struck it low…

Consistency he knew was the way to go.

But then in a flash they heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each reindeer’s hoof,

As Santa arrived just in time to reveal

The fate of each tennis player who wanted to deal…

Roger my man, you will be king of the roost

With oodles of fans and two slams to boot…

You will find No. 1 twice but not for long…

It will bounce along to its own little song…

Rafa the mighty, you will try your best

But you’ll suffer early season regress…

You will lose No. 1 to Roger by an inch …

And then regain it briefly at the French…

Come Wimbledon Roger you return to form

Defeating the record of Bodacious Bjorn…

Crumbing Pete’s mantle as you add fifteen

You’ll wear a new crown never before seen…

Murray doesn’t win, but comes oh so close

You’re second again, but not too remote…

Finally, you’ll succeed in New York, aghast!

Defeating the Joker-you become the Man at last

Through out the fall, Murray reigns supreme;

You take number one and add to your dream…

You finish as top dog at the end of the year

But you won’t hold it long…no fear!

Santa concluded and past out the toys,

Reminding them all to be good little boys…

To play with all their heart and mind

And keep the spirit of winning sublime…

Laying his finger aside of his nose,

Giving a nod up the chimney he rose…

But we heard Santa exclaim as he drove out of sight…

Keep the balls flying—it is a Christmas delight!