There’s something I’ve never understood about Christmas, and it’s not just because I’m Jewish, even though I often wondered why my family couldn’t have a Christmas tree with twinkling, multi-colored lights like everybody else in the neighborhood and we were only allowed to light candles, although I’m happy to say my parents eventually broke down and allowed us to have a Hanukkah “bush” (not a tree, because that’s different) and the lights had to be blue, and only blue (because that’s the only Jewish color, I was told. Don’t ask).
Back to my question: What’s with “The 12 Days of Christmas”? We’ve all heard the song and wondered, among other things: Do I need to go to a mutant pet store to find a turtle dove, do the eight maids-a-milking come with a cow and … a partridge in a pear tree? Really? On second thought, I’m happy with my dreidel and chocolate coins.
I don’t know anybody that celebrates 12 days of Christmas. Every calendar I’ve seen says “Christmas” on Dec. 25. It doesn’t say, “Christmas, Day 1.” I Googled and found various explanations for these alleged 12 days.
Then I asked my wife, who grew up Catholic, and she started talking about “Wise Men” and “Magi” and some “Epiphany” and then said, “The Russian-Orthodox have a different date for Christmas, and you would only know that if you grew up in a neighborhood where they had Russian-Orthodox, and that’s Pittsburgh.”
I asked her if Christmas needed to be 12 days just so it was four days longer than Hanukkah — Jewish Conspiracy Theories — and she said, “It wasn’t us. It was the Wise Men. And they were traveling by camels and it was very slow.”
I don’t like when she steals my material.
So you’re wondering: What does this have to do with sports?
Well, I decided in the spirit of the season, I would distribute some gifts. Twelve seems about right.
Day 1: For Cobb County Commissioners: A new moniker. The Bolsheviks. I figure if Tim Lee and his white-collar economic henchmen and henchwomen want to act like the Politburo and spend up to $397 million in public money on a baseball stadium without checking with, you know, the public, they might as well make it official.
Day 2: For sports fans of Atlanta: A championship or a loan. The Falcons also are building a new stadium, helped by a tax gift of $200 million up front and several hundred million dollars more for upkeep (light bulbs are expensive). But Atlanta fans don't need stadiums. They need Tums. Or winning teams. It would be really funny if two organizations with lousy teams opened new stadiums and nobody showed up, but that's probably too much to hope for. The PSLs, martini bars, $35 parking and $17 hot dogs would be a little more palatable if there was a championship team to watch.
Day 3: For Bruce Levenson: A one-week stay at the hotel of his choice – in a neighborhood where everybody doesn't look like him. Levenson will soon transition to the worst ex-owner in Atlanta sports history, but a little time outside of his bubble will do him good in his next endeavor.
Day 4: For Donald Sterling: The couch in Levenson's room folds out.
Day 5: For Danny Ferry: They'll need a driver.
Day 6: Michael Gearon Jr.: A pillow to land on next time you throw a fit, hold your breath and pass out. On second thought, forget the pillow.
Day 7: For Atlanta Hawks: A navigational beacon. Fans must be having a difficult time finding Philips Arena. That's the only plausible explanation for a team with the Eastern Conference's second-best record ranking 25th in the NBA in attendance.
Day 8: For Roger Goodell: A Pink Panther DVD. When it comes to bungling investigations, yet emerging with that, "I meant to do that," look on your face, Clouseau's got nothing on you.
Day 9: For Mike Smith: An extra minute to use before making a late-game decision. In fact, make that two minutes.
Day 10: For B.J. Upton, Dan Uggla and Kenshin Kawakami: You've each earned one year of mortgage payments each on Frank Wren's house, which seems only fair since you cost him his job.
Day 11: For Josh Smith: Hello? McFly?
Day 12: For Mark Richt: Candles, incense and an exorcism before next year's trip to Jacksonville.
(I’m a giver. Need more than 12 days.)
Day 13: For Paul Johnson: A kind word for critics. Hah! What am I thinking? You'll never use it.
Day 14: For Bobby Petrino: No, you still get nothing.
Day 14 (re-do): For Georgia State coach Trent Miles: A win. (Suddenly, Terre Haute, Ind., is looking pretty good, isn't it?)
Day 15: For Johnny Manziel: A seat at the table with Heath Shuler, Brady Quinn, Ryan Leaf, JaMarcus Russell, Tim Couch, Terry Hanratty, Andre Ware, David Klingler, Chuck Long, Todd Blackledge, Rick Mirer, Browning Nagel, Jason Campbell, Vince Young, Art Schlichter, Kelly Stouffer, Akili Smith, Todd Marinovich and (ta-da) Tim Tebow. Probably best to limit future autograph signings to lower Texas.
Day 16: For Jameis Winston, Jimbo Fisher and the Tallahassee Police Department: A mirror. You can share.
Day 17: For all of my readers: A wish for your dreams and serenity this holiday season and thanks for all that you do for me. Whether you respond to a column or blog with praise or criticism, our connection through comments, emails, Twitter, Facebook, snail mail and the occasional rock through the window is what keeps me going. Peace.
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