Contact
Subscribe
Nov 2006 Issue
by Dave Ellis
“What an enormous magnifier is tradition! How a thing grows in the human memory and in the human imagination, when love, worship, and all that lies in the human heart, is there to encourage it.” ~Thomas Carlyle
Yes, traditions are powerful; they remind us of our past, direct us towards our future and comfort us in the present. Before you recheck the name at the top of the article to make sure this is still Dave Ellis, I will say that I’m talking about the tradition of Ward Turkey Bowls.
Not counting my mission I’ve lived in about fifteen different wards in my lifetime. Each of these wards operate about the same. There’s a building where people meet on Sunday; there’s someone in the ward who gives everyone their travel log during ‘Fast and Testimony’ meetings; there’s lots of kids; AND every ward has a yearly Turkey Bowl Game.
What is a Turkey Bowl? It’s a football game where highly sedentary men don sweats and old gym shoes to go hurt themselves on Thanksgiving morning. These guys from the ward get together to relive their glory days from high school, but it’s not so much a good football game as it is an audition for America’s Funniest Home Videos.
I’ve seen blown out knees, torn Achilles tendons, and ruptured pride. That’s right, pride. You see, sitting at a desk all day isn’t conducive to being a once-a-year athlete. As the phrase goes, “The spirit is willing but the flesh is flabby.”
Oh, I’m not being smug; I’ve had my broken pride handed to me on a plate of foolishness with a side of fermented ego. I’m not sure what that means but that’s how it felt. Realizing that you can’t play a simple football game because now your shape simply resembles a football, minus the stitching, is a hard football-shaped pill to swallow. Sorry, getting carried away with the similes.
The last three years I’ve survived the games without injury, mainly because no one has invited me to go. I still see myself as a tough-guy who can play sports but I guess everyone else sees me as a computer-guy and also my physical limitations (please see football shaped body reference in previous paragraph).
If they only knew that I can, at any time, call upon the tough high school wrestler within me to produce a burst of energy that lasts for three-quarters of a play. I’m like a firecracker, light me up and I explode with power! Then I lay there tattered and torn.
The best part about the Turkey Bowl is playing the part of Warrior of the Gridiron. You can walk (limp) off the field with pride knowing that you gave your all. Your all may not be as much ‘all’ as you had years ago, adjusting for inflation, but you gave it and now you can go home with your head held high.
Go home to your castle, march right in and kiss your wife on the mouth. Thrill her with the tales of the battlefield, swoon her with your acts of bravery, and give a hearty boisterous laugh when she tells you to take a shower because you stink. You are man, hear yourself roar!
(NOTE: The roar most likely is from pain. Take some ibuprofen and alternate hot/cold on the affected areas.)
