Dear Jefe of the Bears,
Ho, ho, NO! Here comes the Grinch, your festive fear,
With a holiday gift you won’t cheer, I’m quite sincere.
A Travel Ban, it’s wrapped and tied,
No more escapes, no global ride.
You loved to roam, a wandering soul,
But now, my friend, playing at home’s your role.
No jet-setting flair, no worldwide spree,
You’re grounded in Chicago, just you, your team, and TV.
Chasing stars and far-off dreams?
Thought you’d dodge your duties with overseas schemes?
But this year, oh dear, you’re in for a shock,
You’re homebound and tied, no place to dock.
Coach your team, no fleeing scene,
Or face a Grinchy twist, quite mean.
From Paris lights to Tokyo nights, wave them goodbye,
Under my ban, you stay, don’t even try.
In your coach’s lair, as you ponder and groan,
Remember, the world’s vast, but home’s your throne.
Sometimes the best journey, as you’ll come to see,
Is leading your Bears to victory.
With Grinchy delight and a touch of sass,
Your holiday spoiler, The Grinch
P.S. Hope you find joy in your forced homestay!
____
Dear Coach Hype Mike of the Packers,
Grinchy greetings, filled with snide, A gift for you, I can’t abide. A Super Bowl Ring, so shiny, so bright, A fake little solace for your playoff fight.
You’ve battled and battled, but oh, such a shame, Defeated and bested, again and again. A Defensive End’s triumph, oh what a tale! Your defeat in the limelight, epic fail!
A history of shortcomings, a narrative so stark, Here’s a ring for you, a lark in the dark. A token, a trinket, a mock little prize, To dry those sad tears from your footballer eyes.
But don’t grow attached, don’t get too fond, I, the Grinch, might abscond. Clutch this ring, keep it near, But remember, I’m always here to sneer.
Wear it, show it, but remember the fact, Your victory’s on loan, that’s our pact. With this ring, a taunt, a sneer, a stab, Beware, for I’m the Grinch, ready to nab!
With devious delight and a cunning scheme, Your festive foe, The Grinch
P.S. Treasure that ring… it’s not as real as it seems!
____
Dear Fallen of the Lions,
Merry Muck-mas! It’s me, the Grinch, with holiday “cheer” to share, I’ve cooked up a gift, oh so rare: Filling Ford Field with Mud, quite the snare!
You relish speed, that thrill, that zoom, But now, my friend, prepare for gloom. Your field of dreams, now a pit of despair, Slowest team in PML? Oh, I wouldn’t dare!
But yes, I did! Mud, thick and deep, Where speedsters crawl, and jumpers creep. Imagine the sight, your players in sludge, Moving like molasses, unable to budge.
The Grinch is here, looking out for your plight, Turning your field into a muddy blight. It’s a twisted gift, a cruel kind of fun, But think of the skills you’ll hone when it’s done!
You’ll adapt, you’ll learn, a true coaching feat, Mastering games where speed takes a back seat. So embrace this mire, this sludgy terrain, It’s your chance to shine, amidst the Grinch’s bane.
With grubby glee and muddy flair, Your holiday prankster, The Grinch
P.S. Don’t forget your boots! It’s going to be a squelchy affair.
____
Dear Coach Wimmy of the Vikings,
Grinchy greetings, with a twist and a shout, I’ve got a gift for you, no need to pout. Dalvin Cook’s back in your Viking crew, But hold your cheers, there’s more in view.
You lost him once, a bitter pill, To the Jets he went, against your will. But now he’s back, oh what a treat! Your running game’s again complete.
Yet, here’s the snag, the Grinchy catch, With every run, critiques will hatch. No more Mr. Nice Coach in the PML game, Critics will come calling, stoking the flame.
Every dash, every run, under the microscope, Prepare for scrutiny, for you, I hope. It’s a gift, a curse, a double-edged sword, Cook’s back, but critics won’t be ignored.
So as you navigate this newfound fame, Remember, with Cook, it’s a different game. Criticism and praise, hand in hand they’ll walk, It’s a Grinchy gift, with a bit of shock.
With sly regards and a critical eye, Your festive foe, The Grinch
P.S. Enjoy Cook’s return, but brace for the storm. It’s all part of the fun!
