By Charlie Fitzgerald ‘20
Ancient artifacts like my dad and uncles are always looking for a way to get back on the football field. A good portion of my family lives and dies by football.
So Thanksgiving poses as the perfect time to do so alongside none other than your sons and nephews. While the parents try to prove they still got it, the kids want to take the bragging rights until next year.
My brother Joe, being in Minnesota since August, couldn’t wait for the game.
“Thanksgiving always makes me forget about the distance,” he said, “It’s one day where the family is all together and I have no worries.”
My dad was sure to shut that up quick, starting the trash talk as soon as my brother stepped off his plane home.
“I’ll give you something to worry about, son.”
Although my dad may have lost a step or two from his glory days, he’s never one to shy away from pregame talking.
We usually have our game start by 2 p.m. at Beverly Park with teams being split by kids and parents. The scores vary upon when the moms call us in for dinner time. This year, the kids took home the first win in 2 years, as the dads’ old bones couldn’t handle the well-equipped bodies of the kids.
“My dad is really turning into an old man.” said my cousin Matt. “At one point I didn’t think he’d play another snap!”
When the game is through and the trash talk is over, we all go back to being one big unit, the Fitzgerald/Kramer family.
The Christmas season will signify a chance for the dads to get revenge, and I bet they’re already preparing for Christmas Day.