Blowout - Poem


Blowout - Poem


The game is over.

The one team is up by five scores.

And it isn’t even halftime yet.


This is the game that is supposed to be good.

This is the game that everyone was hyping up all week.

This is the game that the pundits couldn’t stop talking about, for it was to be the best of the games.


The quarterback on the one team is playing like an MVP, and the team will compete for a championship.

The running back on the other team is one of the top, and the team has a top defense.


These teams are good.

This should be a game.

This should be good football.


More importantly, this is the game that is supposed to get everyone to dinner.

The dinner game stinks, but no one will care at the point since it will be time for turkey and stuffing then.


Both quarterbacks on those teams stink.

The coach on one of the teams will likely get fired at the end of the year.

And the owner of the other team is making excuses for the team’s failures.


That is the dinner game for a reason.


And the lunch game (the first game of the day) was bad, but no one was sitting down watching that game since everyone was driving over to the host’s house for the holiday.


The lack of competition in that game affected no one.


Like how the lack of description of that here won’t hurt anyone either.


The teams from the first game were awful. That is all you need to know about it.


The men from both families stare at the TV screen intently, knowing that if the game doesn’t change, they will have to start chatting with one another about something else.


The only one in the room not concerned with that is the grandpa in the room.

He is sleeping in a chair separate from the others.

A chair that he watched the first game in.


One uncle in the room comments,

“They need better protection. The quarterback has no time.”


“That is not all they need.”

The young nephew in the room responds.


An older brother is throwing a football up in the corner of the room.

“You should have seen us today play. Man, we really smoked them.”


“What you and your buddies fell out of bed to play in this weather? “His father mocked his son.


“It was me, Kyle, AJ, and a bunch of guys from the number streets.”

“Oh, really. Where did you play?”


“Behind the field at Kramer.”


“Is that the one next to the church? Not the church we go to, the other one.”


“The Protestant church.” A cousin interjected.


“No. That is Central Field. We don’t play there. The ground is too hard.”


The husband of the host of the evening came in from the cold and sat between an uncle and nephew.


“What’s the score?”


“It’s a blowout.” His dad said.


The uncle spoke, “They need better protection. The quarterback has no time.”


The nephew didn’t respond, for he was too busy playing the latest update of his mobile video game.


Thanksgiving is all about family and being with the ones that you love.

And sometimes you don’t want to talk to them.


You don’t care about their job that they may or may not have. (He still works as a teacher, I think)

You don’t understand the relationship of the one cousin with that girl he is always with. (Are they dating or what?)

You don’t know what is going on with their current hobbies. (That one cousin still likes standup comedy, right?)


You can only talk so much to others.

How much can you go on about the latest shows you watched on TV?

Or about the latest book you read?

Or the latest big piece of news that everyone knows about, and for some reason, the one guy in the room knows a little too much about.


There is alcohol at these events for a reason.


And then you are forced to talk with the other ones in your family.


The weird ones that make you question why you didn’t order some Chinese food ask that cute girl in pro services if she is doing anything and try to have fun there.

The weird ones make you think that maybe you are adopted and that no one told you yet.


There is alcohol at these events for a reason.


Family is who you are.

Which is why some of us have such a hard time with them.


The faults of your father will be your own faults.

The successes of your brother can become your obstacles.

The strangeness of your uncle is a trait in you as well.


They are your blood.

You can’t change that.


But you can change the amount of alcohol in your blood.


A wife from the other room calls out, asking how the game is going.


One uncle in the room comments,

“They need better protection. The quarterback has no time.”


“That is not all they need.”

The young nephew in the room responds, for he just completed a level.

“It’s a blowout.”

The husband answers, knowing that she wanted a better answer than that.


Men need the football games on Thanksgiving to be competitive because if they are not if the one team is up at halftime, men have to do the one thing they hate to do above all else.


Talk to one another.

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Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on pensandwords.com. He enjoys Thanksgiving and spending time with his family. If a team is up by five scores at halftime on Thanksgiving, he is probably taking a nap on the couch.

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