Thanksgiving has already been ruined
by Pete Cunningham
*As printed November 21, 2007 in The Homer Index   

My Thanksgiving is ruined. It hasn’t happened yet, but I already know it’s going to be a disaster. No, the oven at mom and dad’s place isn’t broken. Yes, the whole family is going to make it for dinner, and surely the turkey and trimmings will be top of the line as always.

Why the pessimism you ask? The reason I’m so glum heading into this most glorious of gluttonous holidays is because Thursday afternoon my family will entertain a very unwelcome guest. Although he’s never stepped foot in our home, this man has already far outstayed his welcome and - despite the fact that I have never met him - he has caused me a great deal of pain over the years that no amount of stuffing and gravy could possibly console. The man I speak of is Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre.

The Lions take on the Packers in the great tradition that is the Thanksgiving Day game, and I am dreading the broadcast even more so than doing the dishes after dinner. It’s not that I don’t think the Lions can win; to the contrary, I think the boys in Honolulu blue are going to take it to the Cheeseheads. I’m just not sure I’ll be able to endure the teenagers at the mall style PDA that is bound to occur between the sportscasters and Favre during the game.

For reasons that are far beyond my grasp, the media circus over the years has found it catchy to coin the hall of fame signal caller as loveable because he shows passion while playing a sport. They like to ignore the fact that 99.9 percent of the other NFL players show the exact same desire, and claim his passion is unique. Every play-by-play analyst and color-commentator to ever pick up a mic, finds it necessary to remind us that Favre – who gets paid $11 million a year to play football - is particularly worthy of praise because he jumps up and down every time his team scores a touchdown.

Between every play, those same announcers will remind us that Favre is “just having so much fun out there” while the cameraman zooms in on Mrs. Favre. She is usually praying/crying by the middle of the second quarter, which is confusing to the commentators who believe the second coming of Christ is standing before them in green and yellow spandex.

When the announcers decide to talk about something other than the fact that Favre enjoys playing a game for exorbitant amounts of cash, they will man-crush over how much of a “gunslinger” he is. When he throws three interceptions into quadruple coverage or tries to lateral the ball to a lineman while being sacked, it’s not because he’s an idiot, it’s because he’s Billy the Kid reincarnated, slingin’ the ball away like it’s an old-fashioned six-shooter. This is also the point when I am likely to apply a soldering iron to my eardrums.

The guys on SportsCenter, instead of saying how boneheaded such plays are, will explain how Favre was really “feeling it when he made that play.” Apparently, underneath the jackets and ties, the ESPN crew rocks pink number four jerseys with rhinestone hearts on the sleeves.

No matter what happens in the game, it will be given a Brett Favre twist. Even if the Lions win by 50, it will be all about how Favre has never lost by that much, at which point we’ll be subjected to the highlights of every game in which Brett Favre played that his team didn’t lose by 50.

I know it’s early, but can I cash in a Christmas miracle on Brett Favre getting injured in pregame warmups because I honestly cannot take four quarters of praise for this overrated superstar. I may just elect to fall asleep on the couch and avoid the game altogether, the same way I weasel my way out of doing those dishes every year.