Turkey Bowl 38 is officially cancelled.
This really bums me out.
One of the many things I enjoy about the Turkey Bowl is that it’s a moment when the troubles of the world seem so far away. Orchard Park has always been an oasis, a bucolic piece of land in the middle of a busy town in the busiest state in the country where the problems of the world fall away and we can focus on the three C’s: CAMARADERIE, Taylor Ham egg and CHEESE, and CONSTANT prayer that no one gets hurt.
Wait, that’s not right. But I think you get the gist.
Here’s how I closed last year’s newsletter:
"I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be on Thanksgiving morning at 10:30 a.m., than at Orchard Park, sharing a cold beer and a warm Taylor Ham sandwich with people I love."
Oasis though it may be, Orchard Park can’t protect us from the virus, so we won’t be able to get together and laugh and catch up and share some Jersey delicacies, a beer or two, and maybe a wee dram. Over the years we’ve played in rain, snow, and extreme cold. I never imagined that we’d have to call off a game because of outside forces. During some of the dark years, when we scrambled to find enough people to play, I did imagine that the game might fade away from a lack of interest, but I never pictured THIS. We can’t share hugs and handshakes and disputed two-hand touches. We can’t share laughter and good-natured mockery. But we can—many of us—believe that the “adults” would have definitely won this year.
A few years ago, as some of you might remember, we had a distinguished visitor to the Turkey Bowl: Mr. Hogenauer, former Columbia High School teacher and resident of Maplewood for over 50 years. He died earlier this year from COVID. A former colleague of mine died from the same thing. This shit is real, people. Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Stay safe.
It blows my mind that there are people out there who’ve let their worship of the Orange Mad Man and his crew of racist, plundering, lying opportunists suck out what little reason they may have had in their pea brains and now believe that it’s all a hoax. It depresses me even more that some of them grew up very close to Orchard Park and went to Columbia.
No, they didn’t play in the Turkey Bowl. Thank God.
No, Orchard Park isn’t the refuge that I thought it was.
This year we’ll have to take comfort in the memories we all carry of past glory. Tell these stories at your probably-smaller-than-usual Thanksgiving Dinners. Smile broadly. Embellish sparingly. Disparage lovingly. Laugh loudly. Be thankful.
Before that dinner, I invite everyone to a Zoom (shudder) kickoff at 10:30 a.m. (the traditional start time) on Thanksgiving morning. We can still lovingly insult each other and talk about how well we all would have played. It will be weird to see everyone and not walk away with some physical soreness. I guess the emotional soreness will have to do.
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