Turkey Bowl 36

“Men do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing.”

-Some Dead Guy

Owen had knee surgery on Friday, so the past MVP will be unavailable for the Big Game.

Seeing Owen go in for knee surgery, I couldn’t help but think about my own knee surgeries almost 40 years ago. Thankfully, surgical techniques have improved, so his prognosis is much better than mine is. But we all knew that.

While Owen was in “Pod B”, which is where the day surgery patients go, post-surgery, he was tended to by a nurse who explained to us that pain is more difficult for younger people because as we get older, we realize that pain is just a part of life, and therefore we’re better able to deal with it.

He also told us about how his father when he was a kid had seen Babe Ruth play at Fenway, and that after the Babe was traded to New York, he’d still visit Southie to see his “girlfriends.”

But back to the nurse’s explanation of pain. What a depressing thought that is!

It totally reminded me of the Turkey Bowl, however.

Perhaps I should talk to a therapist about this, but I associate the Turkey Bowl with pain. If you’ve read any of these newsletters over the years, you know this to be true. Two years ago, I believe, I began with a musing on cane shopping.

And that makes me worry that I’ve turned these missives into the complaints of a middle-aged white man. And I worry that when the disgustingly athletic youth who’ve malevolently infested our game read this they will have every preconceived notion about old people confirmed. But then I remember that I am posting this on a blog and linking to it through Facebook, so they’re probably not seeing it at all. And I also remember this: This is your future. This is my present. I have the power of the pen, so suck it.

“Cause myself just told myself, ‘You the motherf*****’ man, you don’t need no help.’”

          -Some Rapper

Bravado aside, this could be a year of total humiliation for the grown-ups. Let’s face it: we’re older and slower. Last year the game was relatively close, and it came down to the final play. However, unless we play a 20-minute game with no forward passes allowed, our days are numbered. I’m amazed every year when Kesin yells at me for how poorly I’ve laid out the field at how small it seems when the game starts and how big it feels when I blow a coverage in the second half. And that’s what adulthood is like when it comes to athletics: we’re all just finding ways to cope with our limitations. Just a few years ago, the notion of losing to the children was laughable. Then it became a possibility, but really just a 16-seed-beating-a-1-seed possibility. Then it happened. Now it’ll be hard to derail that freight train.

I used to be able to count on winning on Thanksgiving Day. Now it seems like the only thing I can count on is that whatever Mr. Gefken posts on Facebook is a total lie.

Monday I had the pleasure of going to the dentist to get two fillings. I was in the chair, in a prone position, on my back, looking up at the hygienist on the left and the dentist on the right. The hygienist, mid-procedure, says to the dentist, “So, my mother wanted me to ask…what kind of wine should she have for Thanksgiving?”

“Hmm,” the dentist said. “That’s a tough question. What type of wine does your mother like?”

“Oh, she’ll really just drink anything,” the hygienist replied. “I mean, anything. She doesn’t care.”

I’m all for workplace chatter, but this seemed a bit odd. I should mention that my dentist does own a local winery, so the question isn’t as out of left field as it might seem, but couldn’t the hygienist have waited to ask her question? Then again, I was interested in the answer, so I kind of appreciated it.

His answer: A light red, like a cab franc, or a dry or semi-dry Riesling. There you go: the first-ever Turkey Bowl newsletter wine tip.

Why mention all of this? Well, as he finished drilling and filling my teeth, he explained to me that one of my teeth was in bad shape. If it acts up again, he said, the best move would be to just extract it.

I’ve reached the age where I discuss getting teeth pulled with my dentist. And earlier this year I had my first colonoscopy. I had it in the morning, and I ran a 5k race in the afternoon. True story.

Speaking of Life Events, Ian MacDonald’s girlfriend had a baby a few weeks ago, Raelyn, so that means that this year we’ll have our first grandfather participating in Doug MacDonald. Finally, we can say that he plays like a grandfather because he is one. Ian’s living out in Pullman, WA, now, so it’s unknown if he’ll be in Jersey on Thursday. (Update: Ian will not be in attendance.)

I saw Ian and Doug out in Seattle in August after Pearl Jam played SafeCo field. We connected randomly—I only knew Doug was going because he posted it on Facebook. We met at a bar after the show. When I got there Doug was talking to a guy who’d grown up in Westfield. Small world.

I was at the Pearl Jam show with my girlfriend, Kate. Kate’s playing in the Turkey Bowl this year. She’s feisty. You have been warned.

Next up on the Life Events list: by kickoff, O’Reilly’s will have closed. John Nulty pointed out that this is the second iteration of O’Reilly’s that we’ve seen close. The Turkey Bowl has outlasted O’Reilly’s.

The big news in Massachusetts as I write this is that the first legal sales of recreational marijuana have started, with a store in Northampton. There was a line around the block to get in this morning, the first sales day. One of the biggest local proponents of recreational cannabis (apparently some people consider “marijuana” to be a racist term) taught Owen’s health class last year.

Thursday will be the 36^th edition of the Turkey Bowl. The first one happened in Memorial Park in 1983. The next year we shifted over to Orchard Park. I love the Turkey Bowl. It is, without a doubt, one of the highlights of my year. And these newsletters, which I’m pretty sure I’ve written every year since 1985 or so, comprise my most consistent record of lifetime achievement.

Sam Shelffo is 19. Jasper Kesin is in his second year of college. Lulu Kesin is figuring out where she’s going to college next year. Jack Nulty just turned 22. Michael Nulty is growing a mustache for Movember. Kelly Nulty is a top high school swimmer. There will be a whole host of O’Neills at the field, and Lars will keep bringing in disgustingly athletic family members and hangers-on.

The more things change, the better the Turkey Bowl gets.

At the end of October, we all saw the horrific stories about yet another mass shooting, this time in Pittsburgh at a synagogue. Michael Nulty goes to the University of Pittsburgh, and coincidentally John and Kathleen were visiting Michael when the shooting happened. John was near the synagogue and saw the police cars rushing to the scene. When I learned that he was that close, I asked him if he was okay. He texted his reply, “Just another day in America.”

There’s a lot of truth in that, just as there’s truth in what the nurse said, that as we get older, we get used to pain. And that sucks.

But I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how the Turkey Bowl is another day in America, too. It’s a joyful celebration of friendship, friendly competition, family, and love. It’s been going on for 35 years, and if it has to go on for another 35 years to give us the hope we need to combat the horrors we’re seeing seemingly every day, then count me in for every one of them.

“If you think I’ma quit before I die, dream on.”

-Some Rapper

I look forward to seeing everyone at 10:30 on Thursday at Orchard Park. Dress warmly!

Peace.