All I want for Christmas (I’ve checked this list twice),
Is Cleveland sports teams that actually play nice.
I don’t mean polite—I mean wins on the board,
Not heartbreak that leaves us perpetually floored.
The Browns wrap their gifts in orange and brown tape,
But every December it feels like escape.
Quarterbacks shuffle like snow in a squall,
Santa, please—just one franchise QB, that’s all!
The Cavs gave us joy back in twenty-sixteen,
LeBron brought the title (the best gift we’d seen).
Since then we’re rebuilding, though hope’s in the air,
But could we get banners hung more than once there?
The Guardians fight with a budget so thin,
It’s like elves crafting toys with no scissors or pins.
We cheer every summer, we sigh every fall,
“Could someone just buy us one slugger who’s tall?”
Meanwhile, dear Pittsburgh (so smug with their rings),
You’re coal in our stockings, you steal all the things.
And Cincinnati, bless you, but please take a rest—
Your “Who Dey” chant’s cute, but we know who’s best.
(Detroit? Don’t worry—you’re worse, so that’s fine,
Your lump of old coal makes our stockings look prime.)
Yet up in Columbus, the Buckeyes still reign,
Scarlet and gray like a bright candy cane.
The bell tower of football, our one steady light,
Who else can beat Michigan year after year… right?
So Santa, dear Santa, please hear my appeals,
Deliver some victories, maybe some deals.
We’re long-suffering fans, but we still shout with glee—
“Next year’s our year!” (though it rarely will be).
But if you can’t grant us the championships true,
At least bring us teams that are fun to watch too.
For Cleveland we love, through the laughter and tears,
Merry Christmas, my city—let’s hope for good years!
