Ah yes. Christmas in July. From the FanPosts.

I am going crazy. Little to no news. I am scouring the internet and sucking it dry for any article or mention of the Kansas City Chiefs. I feel like I am trying to squeeze water out of a stone. I knew July was going to be a hard month for us all but for God's sake, it's only the 1st! Even things at AP have slowed down due to the lack of news. People aren't posting as much and we are simply running out of things to talk about.

I am the creative chap and I am going to do my best to keep us all, and myself, from totally losing it durrung this dark, dark time. I found myself today thinking about how the month of July is like Christmas Eve for football fants. at the end of the month training camps will start and shortly after that the Hall of Fame Game and the preseason!

Thus, in the spirit of the NFL's Christmas Eve, I present to you, my fellow Chief fans, a poem.

By Patrick "Paddy" Allen

Twas the night before football, when all through the land           

Not a bleacher was covered, the game was at hand.

The jerseys were hung in their lockers with care

In hopes that tomorrow, a loss would be spared.

The Chiefs fans were resting all warm in their beds,

While visions of victories danced in their heads;

With a fridge full of brewed beer and ribs in some sauce,

The truck full of gas, and a football to toss.

Next day on the field there arose such a clatter,

Chiefs spikes in the grass cause now wins only matter.

Away to Arrowhead I drove with my cash,

For Chiefs versus Radiers, I knew they would smash.

The sun on the grass of the newly built shell

Gave a heavenly feel instead of more hell.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But firkin Todd Haley with a defense to fear.

With his eyes full of fire, his playbook so thick,

I knew in an instant the game plan would stick.

More quickly than horses his players they came,

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now D-Bowe, now Johnson, now Bradley and Cassel,

On Vrabel, on Thomas, on Dorsey and Jackson,

Let’s pass down the middle, let’s not be so small,

Now score away, score away, get us the ball!"

They were dressed all in red from their head to their feet,

My blood began to boil, I rose from my seat.

Jamarcus Russell they simply flung on his back

And I turned to my friend, "We just got a sack!"

Their eyes, how they narrowed. Their faces so hairy,

Their biceps like mountains, the Chiefs were not merry.

J Russell’s dumb mouth was drawn up like a bow

For even he was amazed by the D Bowe Show.

Al Davis was frightened; he took out his teeth,

He said, "Screw this guy Russel, I’m calling Ryan Leaf!" 

The great Chiefs scored again so Matt took a seat,

And in came T Thigpen to score with his feet.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,

He called the next play, then turned with a jerk,

Up the middle he ran, feet giving off smoke,

He torched all the Raiders, their defense was broke.

The clock had hit zero, The Don gave a whistle,

And away they all flew, with the speed of a missile.

But I heard them exclaim, ere they ran through the hole,

"That ones for Lamar, now on to the Super Bowl!"

"Ho, Ho, Ho!"

via www.everyjoe.com