A Thanksgiving Tradition

     My dad was not a football fan.  He didn't understand the game nor was he much interested in learning so it was a great surprise when I was fourteen when Dad expressed a desire so play a Sunday evening game of football with his three sons.  For several years we played almost every Sunday afternoon and it wasn't long until the sides were my Dad and I against my older brother and the youngest of the three boys.
     I can't remeber exactly when we started keeping our win-loss stats but they were one-sided for sure.  When we played our last Thyanksgiving Day game Dad and I had won thirty games in a row spaning several decades or more.  How old I was I can't remember   but I know my Dad was well into his sixties.  Dad never was much of a passer but it was a lost art form for him by the time we played our last game. 
When I was young, we won mainly because I was quick.  My brothers could not stop me once I had the ball.  since Dad could not pass well I ran the ball most of the time and almost always scored a touchdown.  The scores were mostly lopsided in our favor.  As the years went by the scores began to even out some but were never really close but once. 

For our twenty-ninth contest, my brothers had a 8-2 lead on us and we played to 10 (one point per touchdown).  We still won, 10-8. 

At that time in our lives we didn't get to play every year   due to military service, jobs, family, etc so it was a couple of years later before we played our final contest.  As soon as the game started I realized we were doomed.  Dad could no longer throw a ball let alone one with any accuracy.  My once dazzling quickness and blazing speed had been replaced by layers of fat and old tired legs. 

My older brother was heavy too but then him and the younger one never depended on speed.  The youngest brother was still slim and trim and was the only one of us who could run the length of the field without calling for oxygen. 

They wom the game 10- to zero but their was no gloating on their part.  I don't even know if they considered the victory sweet after all those defeats.  But I was inspired.  During the following year I managed to lose all my excess weight and now felt that I could run circles around my two brothers again.  But it took two to make a team. 

Dad could no longer play and my brothers were never to be at home on Thanksgiving with us again. 
The tradition lives own in my memories.  It wasn't the wining that I enjoyed so much but the little slice of time in which my family enjoyed each other.