It’s been two-plus weeks since the Thanksgiving holiday, and Just when you thought you had all of the turkey out of your system, you got a rotten slice of this…
Welcome to the NFL, Johnny!
Not exactly what Browns’ fans had in mind back in May when first joined the ‘family’…
Something tells me that Johnny is gonna keep his cash in his wallet for the time being. I can’t decide which would be a better description of his debut performance: high school QB running around and just chucking the ball up for grabs, or a turkey running around with his head cut off. I could make myself more miserable by further examining his Bengal debacle as well as his now less than certain future in the NFL. But I am gonna take the high road, pin his struggles on being a rookie making his debut against a hungry play-off team, and hope for redemption next Sunday.
Instead, it’s time to serve up the long awaited conclusion of my Thanksgiving blog. You can read part one of Turkey Plate, Turkey Ball, Turkey Bowl right here.
I celebrated my birthday on Thanksgiving day. One think that I have learned in my 44 years that an athlete’s (or shall I say, ‘wanna-be’ athlete’s ) body greatly evolves through the years.
Let’s use pictures. As a kid, you body is pretty much a big bowl of…
Or maybe maybe this toy from Christmas past…
Good old Stretch Armstrong. Who knows what toxic chemicals flowed under that skin.
A kids’ body is loosy goosy. Flexible. Kids break bones and get stitches. But do you ever see a kid pull a hamstring or any other muscle? Not very much.
As you enter your teens, that spaghetti metamorphosizes into a…
Explosive. Powerful.
But a bit more prone to a periodic injury.
Your body retains it spring-like abilities for a while. But when you have to grow up and get a job, that spring starts to collect a little bit of rust. But still has plenty of spring in it’s step.
But as the thirties set in, that spring gets a bit stretched. And the body starts to devolve into of these…
It can get down steps alright, but it ain’t get getting pulled over for speeding anymore!
And then comes the 40s…
In part 1, I detailed my survival of playing Thanksgiving morning basketball. The next morning, I was awoken by a group of muscles that were protesting being forced to work overtime on a holiday after being in hibernation over the previous 364 days.
Unfortunately, those muscles were gonna have their very own Black Friday, as it was time for the annual Turkey Bowl football game. My two little brothers and I have gotten together with a group of friends for the past 15 years of so to revive our pigskin passions. Playing basketball on Turkey day is one thing. All of us at least get some hoops in throughout the year, so it doesn’t take too much oil to get those hoops muscles loosened up.
Football, on the other hand, is a whole other story. The cutting, accelerating and physicality of the game puts your body through a workout that no jogging, cross-training, open gym, PX 90, aerobics, Zumba, Jazzercise, calisthentics, or county line dancing can do.
Our worn out bodies do receive a bit of mercy. We do play tap football. Enough of us have played college football to be wise enough not to venture back into world of tackle football. But there is enough bumping, banging, diving, and stumbling to beat us up a little. Or a lot. Those collisions that your body shrugged off as a teenager are now sure to be felt for days to come. If you’re lucky. One year, Bob, our game organizer, suffered a back injury but him on the disabled list for a couple months. Another time, were were fortunate to have a former Ohio State football player join us. The key phrase is ‘one time’. This unnamed Buckeye stretched out to catch a pass in the end zone. Unfortunately, one of our regulars, Big Mike, at 6 foot, 3 inches and 250 plus pounds, was doing his best Joe Haden imitation in pass coverage, and landed right on top of the receiver. That resulted on our one and only torn ACL…so far.
My only injury goes back to November 26, 2010. I remember that precise date because It was exactly one day before I turned 40. I was playing great…like a youthful 36-year old. Then Big Mike blitzed, and I tried to do my best Michael Vick imitation (Johnny Football was still in high school) to juke him out. My first back injury. Welcome to 40, Big Mac! Fortunately, my back healed up in a couple weeks.
This year we limbered up at 9:30 am for the kick off. There were 13 of us this time, ranging from age the golden oldies at age 46 (Dan and Ben, the guys I like to guard!) to a couple of 21-year old pups. I had to bring brooms along to brush the snow off of the sidelines. Despite the 25 degree weather, it didn’t take long for our bodies to heat up. There were plenty of great catches, and just a few ugly drops. There were celebrations of scores and interceptions, as well as some chewed ears for blown coverages. But in the end, it was as fun as ever. And no one got hurt! Every sport has its joys, but playing football is a special feeling that is hard to replicate. And for one day each year, our bodies, and souls, get to remember some of the exuberance of the backyard football games of our childhood as well as the Friday Night Lights of our teen years.
We give two awards at the end of our game. One is the MVP, which for this year, went to Squirrel (a.k.a. Rob). The other is our annual kicking contest. Squirrel almost became the first guy to sweep both awards in a year, but a crafty 44-year old I see in the mirror every once in a while was able to sneak a field goal in from 38 yards out. Word is that the Browns are looking for a kicker to finish up the season. I will be waiting by the phone for Coach Pettine’s call. But until then, I will have this to put on my mantle…
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