‘Twas the Day of Steelers Season

(Based on A Visit From Saint Nicholas by Clement Clarke Moore)

Twas the day of Steelers season, Fall had arrived,

In the land of bridges, where sandwiches have fries.

UPMC’s sign sat high above the trees,

A “non-profit business, with no employees.”

Some yinzers were hungover, snug in their beds,

Last night’s Primanti’s wrappers strewn by their heads.

Some drove to the North Shore, over potholes galore,

While cursing the never-ending tunnel detours.

Thus, out by Heinz Field, gathered so many homers,

“It’s Steelers season!” I cried, as I phoned an Uber.

Away to Gold Lot 1, he drove like a flash,

The game is blacked out at home…blow me, Comcast.

Tailgates roared on, it was a black and gold sea,

And between every car, was a river of pee.

“Ten minutes to kickoff!”, a pantsless drunk cheered,

I ran through Gate A, and bought a nine dollar beer.

On to my seat, a two-foot hotdog in tow,

Time to experience the Mike Tomlin show.

More rapid than Eagles, his players they came,

And he shouted their names, popping out his neck vein!

“Now Pouncey! Now, Miller! Now, Taylor and Johnson!

On, Beachum! Not Adams! Now go, Cortez Allen!”

He deferred the kickoff, “tails” decided the fall,

“THE STANDARD IS THE STANDARD” beckoned his call.

As Renegade bellowed in the speakers above,

The defense took the field, they were thirsty for blood.

Play after play, Polamalu, how he flew,

Speaking of Kiesel’s beard, how on earth does he chew?

And then, INTERCEPTION! It happened so quick,

I stood up and cheered, “BRIAN HOYER’S A DICK!”

The turnover swapped the Browns offense with their D,

Fresh meat for Roethlisberger, husband of Ashley!

He looked in great shape, even with no appendix,

He must have trained like he was not happy with six.

A bundle of plays he had strapped to his wrist,

All devised by Todd Haley, who makes Pittsburgh pissed.

Le’Veon rushed the ball first! His moves, so varied!

It gave ME a rush, like a pop of my cherry!

He ran with such speed, and he couldn’t be caught,

I wished I could say the same for when he smoked pot.

Ben ran the no-huddle, he pump-faked it deep,

It was caught down the middle, and the crowd yelled “HEEEEEEAAATHHH!”

Johnny Manziel grabbed a pen, and scribbled a note,

“Learn to play like Ben, if you wanna be the GOAT.”

He was greasy and plump, a grimy looking troll,

The Browns fan next to me, I mean, that sorry fool,

“They’ll always be the Browns”, I said with a sneer,

He gave me the finger, and called me a queer.

He soon ate his words, fed by chef Tony Brown,

Who broke free in the endzone, STEELERS TOUCHDOWN!

Somewhere in Ohio, Josh Gordon, he sighed,

Then went back to work, where he offered test drives.

Back on the sidelines, Tomlin was slapping Ben’s ass,

It was man-code for “that was one hell of a pass”,

And I heard him exclaim, words sent down from Heaven,

“THIS IS THE FIRST STEP, ON THE STAIRWAY TO SEVEN!”