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'Twas the night before Christmas, New York Mets edition

Learn the story of what happened at Citi Field last night...

Andrew Burton/Getty Images

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the Citi

Not a trade rumor was stirring, shit that seems such a pity

The beat writers flocked with their questions for air

In hopes that the Sandyman would have news he could share

The Mets fans were dreaming of a shortstop with pop

While visions of playoffs, they just wouldn’t stop

And Jeff in his toupee and Fred in his grave

Hadn’t the cash, lest they scrimp, scrounge, or save

When out in the chop shops there was such a clatter

Like Mo Vaughn had dropped his big old sandwich platter

Away to the Porch, I sped up like a horse

Much like Mark Teixeira, of course, of course

The tires and mufflers on the ground down below

Were blocked by a man, uniform white as snow

When, what to my wandering eye should appear

But a miniature sleigh and eight Mets standing near

With a little old driver, so lively and gray

His tactics were poor but "OH CRIPES!", did he say

Much quicker than Phillies, and Marlins, and Nats

The Mets players lined up and all picked up their bats

"Now Travis, Now Curtis, Now David and Juan

On Daniel and Lucas and Michael, come on!"

But who was this 8th man, the shortstop a mystery?

A guy by the name of Troy Tulowitzki

"To the top of the Porch, to the new right field wall.

Now swing away, swing away, hit bombs to fields all!"