Guy Boucher at a practice by: Dolly Dolce

Twas The Night After Christmas

Twas the night after Christmas, when wall through the rink
The lockout was looming and boy, did it stink!
The goal posts were hung by the zambonis with care
In hopes that the season soon would be there.

Not a fan was nestled snug in their seat,
No bloodied Bruin for Bugsy to beat.
I hung up my jersey and my Bolts cap
Knowing the season won’t wake up from it’s nap.

When out on the plaza there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the store to see what was the matter!
To the Espo statue I flew like a flash,
I was out of breath. That was quite the dash!

I couldn’t see anything, my curiosity did grow.
I looked at the sky then the ground below.
When, what to my nosy eyes should appear?
Guy Boucher with his laser beamed stare!


Todd Leiweke and Steve Griggs followed quick.
I knew in a moment would be Jeff Vinik.
Like flashes of Lightning, the players, they came!
Boucher bug-eyed and shouted and called them by name!

I thought to myself ‘could this really be?’
My thought was broken by Coach yelling “Hey! St. Louis!”
“Victor Hedman, Adam Hall, Ryan Malone…
Steven Stamkos, Vinny Lecavelier , Matheiu Garon!”

“Get in the forum and strap on your gear.
The end of the lockout’s hour is near!
We need to be ready, we are still a team.”
He flew up the stairs and winked at me with a gleam.

As I went to enter I glanced at the roof.
Through the bright sun, my eyes saw a hoof.
‘They must be playing Buffalo’, I thought and turned around.
‘Perhaps it’s New Jersey!’ The thought came with a bound.

There was a creature with fur and a paw for a foot.
Then a flash of Lightning turned him to ash and soot.
A Penguin waddled by with ’87’ on his back.
A Blackhawk  ran up and handed him a tissue pack.

Pierre McGuire whined “Guys, it’s Christmas, be merry!”
I was blinded by a jacket. Must have been Don Cherry.
I put on sun glasses and picked up my Nerf gun.
A foam dart stuck on Pierre’s head. Man, that was FUN!

I felt the laser beams and locked eyes with Boucher,
Not approving of violence, he looked at me with dismay.
I told him it was MY dream, don’t let it be in ruin.
Atleast not before I have the chance to take out a Bruin! 

“That’s not your place”, he warned with a scowl.
I was so intimidated that I threw in the towel.
“Just because there’s a stoppage doesn’t mean we don’t have to work.”
He snapped at me before Pierre called me a jerk.

Just like old times, they were all there.
Quick and Hossa and Hank’s fluffy hair.
Milan Lucic helped Horton pick his nose.
Luongo stood in goalie gear, saw a puck, and froze.

Then Coach Boucher whistled and everyone disappeared.
It was all a dream just as I’d feared.
He said one more thing before he left my dream that night,
Flashing his smile and walking out of site.

“The lockout is a demon, this much is true.
Don’t let your love for hockey ever leave you.
When we return, we’ll need you fans to be there.
Just because we’re not playing, doesn’t mean that we don’t care.”

Dolly Dolce

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