Twas the night before Tradesmas and all through the league,
Not a GM was trading, not even our TeeJ;
The blocks were all posted neatly and with great care,
In hopes that some #trade-posts would be entered up there;
The players were all nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of extensions danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out in #general there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my keyboard to see what was the matter.
Away to my Windows I flew like a flash,
Tore open the Slack chat expecting a clash.
The night-mode kicked in, dimming my monitor,
Gave the lustre of midnight to objects upon it there,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a million trades and a friendly Pan-deer,
With so many traders so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment the deadline must end in a tick.
More rapid than dialup the offers they came,
As they whistled and shouted out their blocks by name:
“Take Pringle! Take Rubia! Take Manning and Valle!
Now Shamburger! Now Avino! And even Tsugahara Hori!
To the top of the PL! to the any which team!
Take these damn players, you know what I mean?”
As draft picks between the draft and the season,
Players were shipped with no rhyme and no reason.
So out of the hot tub the offers they flew
A trade was accepted with a bottle of lube–
And then in the twilight I saw in the chat,
A rare @phoenix-michael sighting. How about that!
As I made my pitch and tried to lock down a deal,
Down came reality, as he denied my appeal.
By the end of the night, all GMs were tuckered out,
But happily no one began to pout.
:robot_face: appeared, “Closed” he did write,
Happy Tradesmas to all, and to all a good night!