It's that time of year again. The holiday decorations are going up. Friends and family travel from afar to come together and celebrate the many things for which we are thankful. Great feasts will be shared. Wine will be enjoyed. Laughter will fill our homes as the stories of old are brought to life once again.
And fat old men will pretend to be nineteen again.
I don't know if it's part of the man code everywhere, but around these parts Thanksgiving weekend is synonymous with the gathering of athletic has-beens intent on reliving those glory days of when we were able to chase down Hail Mary touchdown passes or run full court five-on-five without hacking up a lung or crumpling to the ground in pain. Those so called glory days are long gone, but, as we do every year, we will gather for some sort of athletic competition that not a one of our doctor's would consider "safe."
This year it looks like it's going to be basketball. The good Dr. Seitz has secured a gym for us and the plans are already taking shape. I fully expect this year's session to last a solid three hours and border on torture. But, despite the risk of ermergency room visits, the usual suspects are once again being drawn like moths to the flame. Cuban Pete gets the ball rolling and the rest of the committed (or should be committed) start filing in. Schwendy will most definitely be there. Mrs. Mighty Deez has already given me her blessing so I'm in. Kuntz will act like he's dragging himself there, but then his balling skills will magically resurface in the gym. Hopefully Nelly isn't too busy and will make it. Wa-Wa never says no (though he's always a risk to get lost on his way to the gym). Maybe the younger, handsomer Belle, perhaps? A few surprise guests? We'll see. But all in all I'm sure we'll have enough to run a full court five-on-five game with few breaks and fewer substitutions. We'll play beyond any reasonable amount of time, run a year slower on defense, fall ten pounds harder and generally disgrace the game of basketball. It will be worth it, though. And one thing is for certain... the revolution will not be televised.
Now if I can just find my basketball shoes.