The Turkey Bowl

Thanksgiving day started out with an epic three hour football game between all the studs in my ward and neighborhood. To say the very least it was a great time. With boys ranging from 12 years old on up to 50-ish – there was plenty of testosterone, and plenty of trash talk to go around – but sportsmanship was paramount, and everyone worked up a hearty appetite for the feasting later on in the day.

After the game, Jen and I drove up to Holladay to my parents’ home for Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone was there except for Sam and his family – they are still in new York and won’t be in town until closer to Christmas. Zane was in charge of the Turkey this year, which made a few naysayers nervous – but I have to admit – it was probably some of the best turkey I have ever had. The food was great – the company even better – and even Nolan’s Lemon Meringue Pie was good. (what can’t that kid do?)

Black Friday

11:00. Yep 11:00 PM. PM! That is when my wife left to go shopping – the turkey and potatoes were barely making their way into the large intestine and Jen and her sisters were taking to the town. Under normal circumstances, I would have suspected she was cheating on me – but this shopping tradition is anything but normal, and I kissed her good night and went to bed.
I woke up the next morning and stumbled out of bed. HOLY SHIT! Black Friday has a whole new meaning for me now. Black to describe the bruises and pain I felt in my legs, shoulders and stomach. I could barely walk – and sitting down for my morning pee was nearly impossible. After struggling to get down on the toilet seat – I then realized without those handicap bars getting back up was a nogo! After debating whether or not to call the relief society for help, I slowly and painfully managed to get back to my feet. Then came the excruciating chore of trying to get dressed – hamstrings knotting up like a telephone cord twisted to its max.

It wasn’t even 7:00 and I already had the day planned – sit on my butt and watch football and try not to move.

Utah vs. BYU

There were some great games on this weekend, but none did I look forward to more than the yearly conflict known as the Holy War (or for the kinder, gentler, more corporate pansies – The Deseret Dual) between the University of Utah and BYU. Utah came in with two losses – a heartbreaking season opener against Oregon and a humbling beat down to TCU. BYU had hefty losses to both Florida State and TCU.

The game was physical – helmets were ripped off, flags were thrown, bombs were dropped – and it took every once of Centrum for Seniors to get the Panguitch-based officiating crew through the game.

Bottom line – BYU won in OT. Bummer. But then the fireworks began. Then Max Hall held his post-game interview.

And I quote:

“I don’t like Utah. In fact, I hate them,” Hall said. “I hate everything about them. I hate their program. I hate their fans, I hate everything. … I think the whole university, their fans and their organization, is classless.”

Wow. I wonder if they are sold out of Winning for Dummies in the BYU book store.

Are you kidding me? It is actually a good thing as I will now use Max Hall as an example of bad sportsmanship and how not to act – on or off the field.

All in all it was a great weekend. And don’t get me wrong – it wasn’t all spent on football – we did manage to sneak in a showing of New Moon, but I am too embarrassed to talk about that. Edward creeps me out. Much to the dismay of my daughter, Grant and I are rooting for the werewolf.