This started out as one of those "Santa stuffs the stockings of local coaches" pieces that a lot of sports writers write on Christmas because there's not a whole lot going on, at least not since they canceled the Blue-Gray Classic.
But I told the boss I wouldn't touch it with a 39½-foot pole.
I've always been more of a Grinch guy than a Santa guy, I said. For starters, I've got the beady little eyes. And when I got up this morning, what hair I have left looked just like the Grinch's throwback John Riggins mohawk.
Besides, if I were to be Santa, what do you get Bryce Harper? The kid's got everything.
So with all due respect - and apologies to - Dr. Theodor Seuss Geisel, without whom (and baseball cards and my Schwinn Sting-Ray, still the coolest present a kid could ever find under the tree) I would not have survived childhood, here's wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.
Here's also wishing that maybe next Christmas, the Blue-Gray Classic will make a triumphant return.
If the Grinch wore eye black and had a bit of a swagger, he'd resemble young Harper after another two-bagger.
Harper slithered and slunk 'til Hamels fell asleep, then young Harper stole home with a dash and a leap.
And he chuckled and clucked, "What a great Bob Hauck trick! When we play Northern Arizona, we'll try a fake kick!"
"All I need is a bowl bid " then Bob Hauck looked around. But since victories were scarce, there was none to be found.
"And he's training with muscles!" the Pac-Man snarled with a sneer. "Tomorrow night is the fight, it's practically here."
He growled with his Pac-Man fingers nervously strumming: "I MUST find some way to keep Marquez from coming."
Floyd Mayweather Jr.
This new strategy of Floyd's, it seemed awfully urgent; it surprised all of Whoville, it surprised Larry Merchant.
Floyd traded with Cotto, Floyd managed to prevail; then Floyd made it rain, then Floyd went to jail.
And the more Livengood thought of this whole stadium thing, the more Livengood thought: There's financing to bring.
"Why for so many years, I've looked to endow. I must find more cash, and call Cliff Findlay now."
"Pooh-pooh to the Gaels!" opponents keep humming, we're getting awfully tired of these beatings forthcoming.
Did it bother the Gaels, did the Gaels take the bait? No sir, not for a minute, the Gaels won state
Rice shored up the program as quick as a flash, the Rebels feasted on roast beast and Carolina hash.
Marshall and Stanback and Mike Moser stuffs, until it all ended with a loss to the Buffs.
Las Vegas 51s
There on the concourse, a mighty drunk Who! Ricky-Lou Who, who had more than a few.
Sacramento was ahead when on Dollar Beer Night, Ricky-Lou Who and his buddies drank all the Bud Light.
Busch hated NASCAR! The whole NASCAR season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right. It could be, perhaps, they wound his engine too tight.
And wouldn't it be nice if this basketball Hall, had a heart three sizes too big instead of two sizes too small?
Las Vegas Review-Journal sports columnist Ron Kantowski can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or 702-383-0352. Follow him on Twitter: @ronkantowski