Now the year’s in the books, and what do you say?
Was it wine and champagne or deer antler spray?
An emphatic thumbs-up? Maybe a veto.
No, not very clear. In fact, Incognito.
But think back a year and who’d disagree:
It’s all Alabama, all SEC.
Soon Manti Te’o speaks with conviction
Of one special girl — turns out she’s fiction.
What’s more, it turns out this “girlfriend” is dead.
(Hey, he plays football. He wasn’t pre-med.)
The truth proved elusive, just look at Lance.
It’s all a big sham, those triumphs in France.
He sits with Oprah, says he’s a liar,
His cycling pants now clearly on fire.
Darkness descends, the Super Bowl’s wacko.
But let there be light, let there be Flacco.
Valentine’s Day: Oscar Pistorius
Finds glory gone, his name notorious.
Daytona means NASCAR’s ready to roll.
Danica wows ’em by winning the pole.
And then in one jaw-dropping boomerang
Dennis Rodman flies off to Pyongyang.
Wily diplomat or tattooed buffoon?
He’s best friends forever with Kim Jong Un.
By March, it’s a surge — the Heat have the goods.
Speaking of heat ... Lindsey Vonn, Tiger Woods.
Come tournament time, dear Harvard we hail.
Kevin Ware snaps his leg, one ghastly wail.
Louisville wins it under Pitino.
Toast to the champs with glasses of vino.
At Rutgers, Mike Rice is soon out of work,
Caught ranting on tape, a coach gone berserk.
Scott takes the Masters. He’s decked out in green.
And that Chinese kid? What was he, 14?
Then in the rumble of clattering feet
It’s mayhem and heartbreak on Boylston Street.
Jason Collins comes out, says that he’s gay
(And still unemployed in the NBA).
Orb captures the Derby splashing through slop,