Bingham: Ho-ho-ho, he's bearing late gifts

I was having myself a merry little Christmas Eve. Chestnuts were roasting on an open fire, my iPad was playing a few carols and outside, tree tops were glistening.

I had decked the halls with boughs of holly and hung mistletoe above the doorway, hoping that someone sweet and lovely would drop by. But alas, nothing was stirring, not even a mouse.

The only trouble was that in a few hours it would be Christmas and I still had some presents I hadn't sent.

Then all of a sudden there was such a clatter that I opened wide the window to see what was the matter. Did you hear what I heard, I asked myself. Perhaps it was a neighbor returning from his office party.

But no, I saw a roly-poly fellow with a white beard and a red cap, sitting on a sled in the driveway. I threw a scarf about my neck and went out to see him.

“I believe your name's Bingham,” he said. “It's been five years since I stopped by, so I don't blame you if you don't remember me. My name is Claus.”

“You haven't aged a bit, Mr. Claus,” I said. “And am I glad to see you. I've got a few presents in this bundle that I haven't been able to send and it's getting late. Got to get them there by tomorrow morning.”

“That's why I'm here. But did you try FedEx?”

“I did. But when I gave them my name, they threw the entire bundle back at me. Seems they don't like what I've written about their stupid golf tournament. I'm on their blacklist. Think you can deliver them for me?”

“In the old days I would have said no way, but ever since I left the reindeer at home and went digital, it's easy. Let's see what you have.”

“Well, this little booklet is for Tiger Woods. It's a revised edition of the Rules of Golf. It should keep him from infractions that caused him those annoying penalties this year. You remember what happened at the 15th hole at the Masters.”

“Actually, I don't. Mrs. Claus and I were on vacation down in Alaska.”

“Well, there's this pond….”

“Don't tell, he fell in.”

“No, but he….never mind. It's a long story. I also have something for Phil Mickelson. You've heard of him?”

“Is that the fellow who plays golf backward?”

“Backward? Oh, you mean left-handed. Yes, that's him.”

“Seems like an affable fellow, always grinning, high-fiving the crowds. But every time he hits the ball, he starts walking toward the woods.”

“Exactly. That's why I'm giving him this compass. When he stands on the first tee, it shows him where the fairway is.”

“Who gets all these name tags?”

“The Boston Celtics. Never needed them in the old days. They had Cousy and Russell, then Bird, McHale and Parish. Last year it was Garnett and Pierce. But this season they have fellows I never heard of. Bass, Green, Crawford. Worse, they play as if they've just met.”

“I thought they were near the top in their division.”

“They are, and they were in first place until losing a few recently. They're second now but still have lost more games than they've won. Toronto's in but is only 11-14.”

“Anything else?”

“A couple more. This doll wearing a hoodie, a present to the Boston media. It's the Patriots' coach, Bill Belichick. When you ask the doll a question, any question, it answers. Listen... 'How is Gronkowski coming along, Coach?' Now push the button. 'It's day to day. It is what it is. Whatever's best for the ball club.'

“Now they don't have to waste time going to press conferences anymore.”

“That's it?”

“Right. Think you can deliver the presents by tomorrow?”

“Oh, I already did. The second you showed them to me, I tweeted a helper and by a mistake it went viral. Modern technology. Can't beat it. I just ride around in this sled for old times sake. Heigh-ho.”
