The outlook was uncertain for the Motor City Cruise
The Pistons of the G-League had everything to lose
At Wayne State on this fateful night, nothing would be the same
Fans trickled in to flashing lights to see if they had game.
Ten dollar seats, eight dollar beers, free parking for their vans
With hope which springs eternal that they would become fans
They thought, “If only Ryan would come through the tunnel door
... We’d surely beat Chicago, with Ryan on the floor.”
Yeshiva U’s … Division 3’s highest scorer of the years
Seven inches, six feet tall, blonde curls over his ears
Topped with a custom kippa, Turell would make it rain
Dazzling dunks and 3-point shots go flowing down the drain.
But Ryan wound up waiting for the NBA to call
To tap him on the shoulder or yamaka or shawl
And when the dust had lifted and the drafters got to choose
Turell became a minor for the Motor City Cruise.
Detroit would be his newfound home, the court to make a stand
Like Greenberg swinging for the fence, perchance his promised land
... From LA ... to NYC ... and now the midwest calling
Boychick packed his high-top shoes without a moment’s staling.
Their first game in Clevelandtown fell on a Friday night.
Turell was on the roster, but didn’t take the flight
Detroit lost in overtime without their shabbos guard
Like Greenberg on Yom Kippur, declining to go yard.
So Monday night in Midtown would be the the world premiere
of an Orthodox observer with fans from far and near
In jerseys showing tsitis and kosher dogs in hand
At the sight of Number 7, they cheered to beat the band.
With sharpened horns, those Bulls charged in and took an early lead
Kostas Antetokounmpo, the only player they would need
But clad in pants that tear away and a T-shirt reading, “Vote”
Ryan Turell, the Jewish Star, the once and future GOAT.
Halftime came and halftime went with only Dots for Dipping,
Ryan cheered his teammates on though Cruises’ odds were slipping.
“Put him in,” the rabbis said, “he’s chosen for a reason —
We’ve fasted and repented. We’re ready for this season.”
Just minutes left, with chances slim, the coach looked down his bench.
Would this be it? The knowing nod to our high-flying mensch?
It’s quiet for a moment ... and then a mighty roar —
Detroit can’t lose this blessed night ‘cause Ryan’s on the floor.