The “bell lap” is a slang term for describing the last lap of any distance event in track and field. Since Sports Editor Kyle Cajero was a longtime track athlete — and because he couldn’t come up with a creative name — he went back to his more athletic roots to name his semi-recurring Saturday column.

The second installment is a local spin on Clement Clarke Moore’s “A Visit from St. Nicholas” — a poem we all know and love.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through The Bee,

Not a creature was stirring, not even good Keith;

The ad staff was absent — Mary’s desk was clean —

In hopes that no news would break on Christmas Eve.

While people of Sandpoint were snug in their beds

With visions of league titles danced in their heads;

Caroline’s in her office, and I at my desk,

Had sent off our pages to Coeur d’Alene Press;

When out on Division arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.

Away to SHS I flew like a flash,

Flung my car into park and then made a mad dash;

I flung open the gym door and witnessed a sport

With ten red-clad boys out on Les Rogers Court.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a basketball coach clad in Bulldog veneer

With rectangular glasses and clipboard at bay,

I knew in a moment he must be Coach Wade.

More rapid than eagles his players would trap,

Their defense’s pressure made their foes collapse.

“Now, Kobe! Now, Ryan! Now, Alex and Christian!

On, Bruin! On, Wilson! On Elijah Larson!

To the top of the league! To the state title game!

Slow it down, set it up, and let’s run our new play!”

As Engelson’s voice spurred on another scrimmage,

I had a strange feeling this show was not finished.

But then, with a flutter, I heard the net swish,

I turned towards the sound and I saw Aly Lish

Joined with her teammates named Maddie and Dawson,

The quartet of Bulldogs shot threes from the corners,

And on the occasion that one of them missed,

Izzo would rebound, reset, drive and dish.

As Natalie, Bella and Brooklen rebounded,

‘Twas then when I knew their teamwork was astounding.

And right as I readied my red pad and pen,

Will Love blew his whistle, and yelled out “again!”

As I stood and watched at this wonderous sight,

I couldn’t help feeling like things were quite right;

These athletes in Sandpoint, with talents abound,

Could lift up the spirits of this close-knit town.

No matter the game score, the points and assists,

Both teams put on shows that simply can’t be missed.

Yet the scene’s luster faded, like epiphanies do,

As Love’s last whistle sounded, I bid them adieu.

They sprang towards the exit, almost all at once

And ran right past me and out towards the bus.

Before I could ask why they’d have such a late game —

or who on earth they’d be possibly playing —

I heard someone say ‘fore they drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”