Old emails are still good emails

I was thinking about this email from Bill the other day and managed to dig it out of my Athena account. It still makes me smile, and I hope it'll make you smile, too.

Merry XMas, sMITten!

THE SMITE BEFORE CHRISTMAS (with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through Course Six
No backhands were stirring, no hammers or flicks;
The cleats were all hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that spring season soon would be there;
The freshmen were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of plastic danced in their heads;
The Dobsons now parted, and I overseas,
No longer remembered who were 1s, 2s, or 3s?
Then in the Z-Center there arose such a clatter,
Folks sprang from MacGregor to see what was the matter.
Away to their windows they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the IM field snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a four-person play, that we ran once last year.
With a little old handler, so quick and so fancy,
I knew in a moment it had to be Nancy.
More rapid than eagles her cutters they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Lily! Now, Genevieve! Liver and Ali!
On, Shuang! On Yelena! On, Meryl, don’t dally!
To the back of the end zone! Break mark and fake!
Go long for my backhand! For everyone’s sake!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So long to the end zone the cutters they flew,
The Course 12s and Course 6ers, and Angela, too.
And then, in a twinkling, what seemed so high-risk
The spinning and spinning of that plastic disc.
As I drew in my breath, and was turning around,
Down floating it came, but it never touched ground.
They wore blue and bright yellow, from their heads to their toes,
And their logo said something that God only knows;
A backpack of books they had flung on their backs,
They looked just like peddlers with PCs and Macs.
Their eyes—how they twinkled! Their dimples how ready!
Their knees were all bruised, and their faces all sweaty!
Their droll little wrists were ready to flick,
And the teams cross the country they knew they could lick;
A look of intensity tight in their teeth,
And steam it encircled their heads like a wreath;
But smiles on their faces and laughing out loud,
They ran and they jumped and they played to the crowd.
It was all so familiar, right off the shelf,
And I laughed when I saw them, in spite of myself;
A wink of the eye and Nancy’s long throw,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to woe;
They let out a cheer, about beavers and Pi,
Then caught every pass, thrown low or thrown high,
Using two hands for every next disc,
They caught, turned and threw, it was all so low risk;
They faked to their left, they cut to their right,
And away they all flew so fast and so light.
But I heard them exclaim, ere they ran out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good SMITE."