‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through AAC
Not a concession was stirring, not even Seattle’s Best Coffee.
The banners were hung in the rafters with care,
In hopes another championship would soon join them there.
The ManiACCs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of halftime hot dogs danced in their heads.
And Donnie in his blazer, and Cuban in his tee,
Had just settled their brains after grading prospects A, B, and C.
When out on Victory Plaza there arose such a clatter,
Cuban sprang from the stair stepper to see what was the matter.