Promise to Finish Football Game After Dinner Falls Apart for Eighth Consecutive Thanksgiving

By Mike Range

CLEVELAND - Faced with a full stomach and a blood alcohol level twice the legal limit, Uncle Roy has officially called off the resumption of the annual Thanksgiving family football game for the eighth straight year, End of the Bench has learned.

While Uncle Roy bailing on his team in favor of his brother’s recliner and “just one more” whiskey sour has become as ingrained a tradition as Aunt Mary’s green bean casserole hidden under extra gravy before being scraped into the trash, the abandonment still hit his teammates hard.

“Fucking Uncle Roy,” said Tina, daughter of Roy’s sister Janet and receiver/backup all-time-quarterback. “He’s been doing this since I was ten. For a while, I thought he was just too cool to keep hanging out with us younger kids, but after a semester at college I realize he’s just a 35-year-old burnout.”

To make matters worse, the “Feast Beasts” had just taken a 63–56 lead over the Roy-less “Tryptophanatics” when Grandma called the first half, announcing that it was time for pie.

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“Everybody knows that scoring slows down in the second half after the pie is served, so for him to just quit on his team like that honestly was a little fucked up,” Roy’s 12-year-old nephew Geoffrey said. “I can’t stand that griefer, no cap.” 

Despite the hit to their chances of winning, not everyone on Uncle Roy’s team was disappointed with playing the second half a man down.

“I’m glad he didn’t come back out,” said Jason, Roy’s “kid brother” and tight end/down lineman. “I brought my new girlfriend home, and Roy spent the first half trying to show off for her by not throwing the ball to me even though I was wide open, instead running and using a spin move to juke little Geoffrey. Then he winks at her and says, ‘You should have seen me when I played ball in school.’ Yeah, like the girls were throwing themselves at your 1–9 JV team.”

When reached for comment, Roy was full of both mashed potatoes and regret.

“Damn, I was just gonna come back out,” he added, rubbing his stomach. “Maybe next year.”

End of the Bench will have more right after we eat this second plate.

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