So apparently the weather gods decided that, since the NFL instituted a new third game this year in addition to the traditional Lions and Cowboys games, I should be punished this Thanksgiving without the annual family football game.
There are three things I look forward to each and every Thanksgiving: a gluttonous feast, a two-hand touch football game and the viewing of "Home Alone." I was 1-for-3 this year, and I am not happy.
For those of you not in New England this holiday, congratulations. You escaped a grey, cold, rainy Thanksgiving Thursday that would have made the bleakest Puritan feel right at home (of course it was warm and sunny the rest of the time - classic New England weather).
My family and I arrived at my cousin's house just west of Medford in the mid-afternoon on Thanksgiving. I was mentally and physically prepared for the turkey/football onslaught to come. I ate a light breakfast that morning; the spare shoes were in the trunk. I was ready to go.
The Thanksgiving two-hand touch football game ranks up there with the Super Bowl and the World Series in terms of sports events I most look forward to each year. It's my chance to play a competitive game of football against players who are a) half my age or b) twice my age. I want my opponents either under four feet or with two hip replacements. These are the types of advantages I thrive on.
There's never a lack of bodies in my family to get a good football game going. By the time my little cousins and I start tossing around the football, inevitably the older cousins follow, with my dad making his usual late-quarter appearance after his second or third nap of the day. It's always a great time, and with the youngsters getting older, the games no longer end with the first sign of tears.
Having played on a flag football team during the fall, I realized just how little skill I actually have at the sport, so my ego was particularly dented and looking forward to a chance at redemption, even if my spectacular end zone grab would come against a 10-year-old. He plays peewee football. He knows what he's getting into.
But the rain wouldn't let up, the sun continued to fade and soon enough it was time to eat. Which meant by 4:00 the food coma had significantly set in and none of us was in shape enough to walk from the table to the couch, let alone to play football.
Despite the loss of the football game, I would at least have "Home Alone," with Kevin, Marv and Harry's hilarious hi-jinks to save an already damaged Thanksgiving.
But to add insult to injury, someone decided to perform the ultimate act of Thanksgiving sacrilege and not show "Home Alone" this year. Remember the face Macaulay Culkin makes when he puts the aftershave on? That was me this year.
I've got a few words for whichever media executives made this outrageous decision: you show "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" on Halloween, you show "It's A Wonderful Life" on Christmas Eve, you drag out Dick Clark for New Year's Eve, and you show "Home Alone" on Thanksgiving night.
This is a simple enough formula to follow, so why do they have to mess with it? Also, everyone knows you can't just rent the movie (seeing as how I'm not eight years old any more), nor can you watch it on any other night of the week. It just doesn't feel right. So next Thanksgiving, let's go back to what works, and give me my one childhood joy of watching a man get hit in the face by a paint can. Deal?
So now I have to wait an entire year for not only my favorite holiday movie, but also my favorite football game, and let's face it, no one's getting any younger. And every year that goes by only means the little cousins aren't so little anymore. That's something I am not thankful for.
Andrew Bauld is a senior majoring in English and political science. He can be reached at andrew.bauld@tufts.edu
