December 4, 2009
I played in more than a few turkey bowl games over Thanksgiving weekend.
Okay, I played in exactly a few turkey bowl games. As long as you agree that a few equals 3. I’ve always said a couple is 2 and a few is 3. Anything more than that is just Hrair.
The first bowl was early Thanksgiving day, with a largish group, and somehow, not sure how, but somehow, the teams ended up being a bunch of 17-22 year old guys on one side, and on my side, we ranged from old guys like me all the way to 11 year olds like Holden. I’m not complaining. Just explaining.
Sometime around the middle of the game, I lined up on offense, and as people were calling out their coverage assignments, one of the boys in the prime of youth on the other side of the ball called out “Hey! I’ve got brown. I’ve got BIG BROWN!”
Confused, I looked around, trying to spot whoever was big and wearing brown. Or maybe we had someone brown playing with us and I hadn’t noticed.
Until it dawned on me to look down at my shirt.
I was wearing my usual plaid Costco shorts, a long sleeve white t-shirt, and a BROWN “more cowbell” t-shirt on top.
I looked around again. Yup. I was the only one wearing brown.
Apparently, Big Brown was me. He is I, and I am him, slim with the tilted brim.
I’m thinking my quest to hit 200 lbs is over. I’ve been to the gym or on the spin bike in the basement almost every day since.
If I don’t nip this in the bud now, I’ll be Big Brown for the rest of my life. Which, in that case, would be very short. And would probably void my life insurance policy.
Big. Brown. Oh hell.