Sometimes, it is best to say nothing. No comment. No dissertation on the state of our athletic union. No diatribe against the evils of wealth and greed. No notions about a blockbuster deal a team should make. No laughing, no crying, no harm, no foul.
Sometimes, it is best to leave well enough alone, to just be thankful to those around us who provide our entertainment, to simply wish happy holidays to those whose craftsmanship or sportsmanship or friendship we so enjoy.
So, with apologies to Roger Angell of the New Yorker, who does this so much better:
Merry Christmas, James Worthy, Jerome Kersey, Barbara Hershey. Season’s greetings, Cleveland Gary, Debbie Harry, Danny Ferry. Julie Inkster (female linkster),
Magic Johnson, Charles Bronson. Happy New Year, Kelly Hrudey, Orville Moody and Doug Flutie. Find some snow in which to frolic, For Sydney Pollack and Bob Golic. Not to mention Jackie Slater, And Jay Schroeder and Doug Rader. Leave a light on, or a candle, For Alan Trammell, Dorothy Hamill, Rodney Peete ‘n’ Diane Keaton, Barry Levinson and Doc Severinsen. Thinking of you, poor Pete Rose. And of you, my dear Glenn Close. Guide us like a Shepherd, Cybill. Show the way to wild Rob Dibble. At Christmas time we gladly honor Will McDonough and Madonna. Gabriel Garcia Marquez Or, better yet, Pascual Perez. A “nicely done” to Coach Art Shell, Who did so swell without Greg Bell. Sandy Koufax, Neil Lomax. Send each one a Hallmark fax. Day by day, we do give thanks For both Tom Hanks and Ernie Banks. Not to mention Bryan Harvey, Dana Carvey and Steve Garvey. Here’s a hand now, Martin Landau, Marlon Brando and Fernando. Oh, and tips of our sombrero, Robert DeNiro, Angel Cordero. Had we one gift from St. Nicholas We’d play a round with old Jack Nicklaus. Or catch a pass from David Klingler. Or make one, maybe, at Debra Winger. Sampras, Chang, you’re true goodfellas. (Goes for you, too, Monica Seles.) Live from New York, it’s you, Jan Hooks. Hey, get together with Hubie Brooks. Curtis Strange, Danny Ainge, We like the way you play the game. ESPN still has Chris Berman. We prefer it hired Candice Bergen. Look who’s talking, Kirstie Alley: Motown motormouth John Salley. Yuletide wishes, Richard Dent. With a beer let’s toast George Wendt. What’s become of Sebastian Coe? Or Doug Moe? Or Jacques Cousteau? Who’s gotten bigger: Spud Webb? Or Muggsy Bogues? Or Johnny Depp? Three cheers Tuesday to Rick Monday. Al and Peg (and Kelly!) Bundy. Same to Todd Marinovich. “Da” to Drazen Petrovic. Christmas carolers, near and far. Try to drown out Roseanne Barr. High above us, nighttime, darkly, Has a bright star: Charles Barkley. May we add that we adore Guy Lafleur and Demi Moore? Both Paul Simons, Lyle Alzado, Wendy Wyland and Rod Dedeaux? Likewise, we like both the Hogans, Paul and Hulkster, plus Fred Roggin. Same affection that we gave To both the Stewarts, James and Dave. We took twin peeks at Sherilynn Fenn. Asked peace on Earth for Tony Gwynn. Wished good luck to Tracy Austin And better luck to teams from Boston. Oh, Santa, could we ask you, please? To keep in mind troops overseas? P.S.: While we are on our knees, Keep dugouts full of Rick Dempseys. Grant Chi Chi one round in the 50s. Back-to-back belts for the Griffeys. A driver’s seat for A.J. Foyt. Safe celebrations for Detroit. Give 30 boards to Derrick Coleman, A 300 game to Marshall Holman. And not a single call of traveling, To anyone playing for George Raveling. Most of all, our prayers we gave That fans not stand to do the Wave. Good luck, then, to everyone. You’ll be needing it come ’91.