Player’s Journal: NFL Thanksgiving

Getting excited for Thanksgiving next Thursday? Turkey, pumpkin pie, sweet potatoes, etc. How about drinking beer (or mud slides in my family) in the middle of the afternoon—on a Thursday? Gotta love America, right?

 

Well, why on earth am I writing this? Does it have anything to do with Tampa 2, blitz schemes, Pac-Man going to a strip club, etc, etc, etc? No, not really. It has nothing to do with the game of football itself, but it has everything to do with the men who play this game. Let’s just cut right to it. Holidays as a NFL player are terrible. Besides getting out of practice early (but not that early), you are not back home, most likely not with your extended family, sometimes actually all alone, or eating at a teammates house that has zero in common with your own families traditions.

 

When I was a rookie in St. Louis, Kurt Warner offered all of us home-sick rookies the opportunity to come over to his house and celebrate Thanksgiving dinner with his family—which is a first class move folks—but we had already made plans: two cases of Budweiser and one of those turkeys that comes pre-cooked. You just throw it in the oven. We, as magical as we were in the kitchen, threw it in the microwave. Awful, just awful as the lukewarm, raggedy, chewy meat hit our lips. But, it wasn’t all that bad. Four rooks together with 48 beers. We did what you  most likely do on Thanksgiving–we ate (or forced ourselves to eat), drank beer, and watched the Cowboys game. The only difference is that we had practice early the next morning and a game on Sunday.

 

My last year in the league, my wife and I ate by ourselves in a rented condo we had in Orchard Park. I rushed to the liquor store to get a jug of Bailey’s and a 12-pack of Labbat’s Heavies just before they closed. It was a close one. But, there was no chaotic noise coming from the living room, no family traditions, because, they were back in Peoria, Illinois carrying on their own party—and I don’t blame them. Yes, it was a good Thanksgiving, just me and my pregnant wife, but there were no cousins, no horror movie at night with decapitations and beatings (a Bowen family tradition), and no touch-football game across the street (I will discuss this one next week, because you don’t want to miss this story). Sure, we both appreciated the day, or the short afternoon because of practice, but we also were homesick. Being away from your family on Thanksgiving can do that to people—even players in the NFL. Game or not in three days, I would rather be at home on Turkey Day. Wouldn’t you?

 

Think about it as you start top shop for a bird, some extra pumpkin pie, or even a keg of Busch Light for the party. We get to sit back and watch NFL football during the day—which is a treat in itself—but there are still those guys living, playing, and EATING their Thanksgiving dinner miles and miles away from their homes, parents, grandparents, cousins, brothers, sisters, etc. My point for writing this, and for wanting to be a part of the National Football Post is to show you that these men, although gladiators on Sundays, are still just men. They have the same feelings about the holidays as you and I will next Thursday. And, I think that is important to know when you sit down for a piece of pie with extra whip crème, and a coffee with a shot of whiskey, that there are NFL players eating rubber turkeys and drinking Budweiser from a can. Yes, the lifestyle can be great, but on days like Thanksgiving, it can be brutal.