I know this has been done before, and mods feel free to nuke if this doesn't warrant a thread, but here's a 2023 version:

Twas the night before the game and all through Ohio,

No reporter was digging, except for Brohio

UMs trophy case was sitting, mostly bare,

In hopes that a trophy soon would be there.

Wolverines were nestled in Walmart purchased threads,

While September Heismans ran through their heads.

And Harbaugh in his khakis and Connor in his cap,

Had just settled in to do a victory lap.

When in the big house, they heard a bus shriek,

Unaware of the chaos, its inhabitants would wreak.

Away to the film room, and to the hard drives,

They ran to be sure, that their story jives.

Armed with an ancient offense, praying for snow,

Knowing that passing, was for them a no-go.

But what to their beady little eyes should appear, but 11 Silver Bullets, it was time to fear.

More rabid than bloodhounds his blitzers they came,

And he laughed as he sent them, scums offense to tame:

Go Tyliek, go Sawyer, go Mike Hall and JT

Go Denzel, go Sonny, go Jordan andTommy.

Keep the pressure on, make all their drives stall,

Their hopes away, hopes away, hopes away all.

As yellow flags fly, all vibrant and bold,

From panicked scum lineman, forced into a hold.

With a bus full of talent, the Bucks knew the way,

Led by the man, head coach Ryan Day.

And then in the tunnel, scum would realize with fright,

Nobody will be there, with whom to start a fight.

As they looked ‘cross the field to the other sideline,

They knew that nothing would ever be fine.

Day was dressed in scarlet from his head to his foot,

His beard had been dyed with pure ashen soot.

GameDay showed up, Desmond Howard riding herd.

He looked like nothing, but a foolish little nerd.

His opinions, delusional, his takes outlandish,

But yet, his words, he never ceased to brandish.

He was goofy and short, with a punchable face,

And I laughed when he spoke, he was so off base.

Jimmy turned his head, and gulped down a milk,

Now it's clear, we have nothing to fear from his ilk.

He spoke very little, tomorrow, off work,

But that didn't stop him from being a jerk.

And sticking his finger up his nose for his lunch,

He located his target, and he began to munch.

He slunk back home, turned the team over to Moore,

And knew his career, would be gone forevermore (okay, unless he begs a job from the Ravens).

But I heard Jimmy cry as his hopes and dreams died,

Everybody cheats, at least we tried.