Thank the Gods of football on Thanksgiving day. After the men have eaten enough to keep a small village alive, we crawl to the TV. The television is our only safe haven at this time of the day.
Bloated and belching, we retire to the living room and turn the tube on. It keeps us out of the kitchen. Lord knows, that we want to help do the dishes, but the women won't have it! HA! They throw us out and we stagger to the warm comfort of the living room.
It is a time when we feel comfortable enough with one another to unsnap our pants and we may actually nap as the games play on. As a general rule, men don't sleep in front of one another; on this day though, it's alright.
Sure, we were ready to kill each other before our huge feast, fueled by booze and "family" fun. We have been having a great time! Farting and scratching, we fall into a light coma as the games play on the TV.
"Who is playing?" someone asks. We grunt and shrug. Who cares? It is not the game, it is the escape. That is all that really counts. We groan, belch, and fart as the games roll on.
For me, that is what football is all about. I hope some of you can relate.
Have a Great Thanksgiving! Oh Lord help us all! HA!
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