Thanksgiving is probably one of my favorite days of the year.
The turkey.
The football.
The pumpkin pie.
The unquestioned right to eat until your waistband throws in the towel and screams, “I can’t breathe!”
But while some families spend Thanksgiving morning sleeping in, watching the parade, or running a 5K together, the Taylors have a different tradition, one that refuses to die:
The Annual Taylor Family Turkey Bowl.
Over 50 years strong.
It has survived cross-country moves, hurricane threats, head colds, snow blizzards, and referees showing more favoritism than the ones calling a Kansas City Chiefs post- season game.
And every year, no matter where we’ve lived, California, Ohio, Florida, we’ve been out there.
Rain, shine, snow, questionable mental health… I’m there.
When I was a kid, this wasn’t just a game.
It was the Super Bowl of Suburban America.
Trash talk. Bragging rights. Wanna-be NFL dreams.
Street football, high school fields… and once, in Huron, Ohio, a legendary Snowbowl that reminded me of watching the Rams lose in the NFC Championship to Fran Tarkenton and the Vikings in freezing cold Bloomington, Minnesota… except with more slipping and far fewer fans.
Fast-forward to now.
I’m 58, and the first few steps out of bed feel like a software update loading… very slowly.
But do I retire from the Turkey Bowl?
Nope.
Because my reasons are very scientific:
30% - Make memories with my boys…mostly so they’ll visit me when I’m old.
40% - Preserve a family tradition older than disco, bell-bottoms, and polyester leisure suits.
20% - The fun of the game…at least until someone pulls a hamstring.
10% - Foolish pride… because apparently I haven’t learned anything from previous years.
0% - Common sense… because clearly that ship sailed years ago.
Something in me still believes it’s 1984 and I’m one big play away from glory.
So this year before the game, I told my wife:
“Honey, I’m going to score a touchdown for you.”
You know… trying to be her Thanksgiving hero.
I was expecting a smile, a hug… maybe even a Hallmark tear.
Instead, she gave me the same face she gives Cali, our dog, when Cali barfs a fresh batch of grass smoothie onto our tile floor and said,
“Derek….you better not hurt yourself.”
Nothing says romance like injury-prevention advice.
When I arrived at the field, the teams were picked, and I volunteered as all-time center to keep things low-risk.
Snap the ball, avoid injury, let the younger guys do the running.
But after our first drive went four-and-out faster than a plate of sweet potatoes at a church potluck, I realized something had to change.
So I stepped in.
For the team.
For the legacy.
For my country.
And I did exactly what I told myself I would NOT do before the game started…
I became quarterback.
The game was a beautiful disaster: trash talk flying, pride swelling, officiating so biased it should be investigated, and enough chaos to make you wonder how nobody walked away injured.
Not even a limp.
A true Thanksgiving wonder.
By the end, we lost by one point: 38-39.
Painful.
But not as painful as the feeling in my legs the next morning.
And yet… it was worth every sore muscle.
Because here’s what I realized after the game:
At 58, I GET to do this.
I get to run around with my boys.
I get to make memories.
I get to walk off the field under my own power.
I get to thank the Lord for one more year of tradition and one more year of health.
So after the game we gathered together in the middle of the field, sweaty, sore, a little winded, and took a knee as a group and gave thanks to God for His many blessings… including the simple gift of being healthy enough to play.
And as we knelt there on the field, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the gift of health, the gift we take for granted every day, the gift we’re called to steward, not something we’re guaranteed.
God didn’t give us bodies to store in bubble-wrap, He gave them to be used, moved, stretched, strengthened, and enjoyed.
The fastest way to feel old is to stop moving.
The fastest way to feel young is to keep moving.
We don’t stay healthy by accident.
We stay healthy by stewardship, by caring for the body God gave us so we can keep showing up for the people and moments that actually matter.
So this Thanksgiving season, here’s my encouragement to you:
Don’t wait for perfect conditions to start moving.
Don’t wait for January 1st.
Don’t wait for the “right time.”
Use your health while you have it.
Protect it while you can.
Give thanks to God for it every day.
We don’t get to choose how long we have on this earth,
but we do get to choose how we live the days we’re given.
Move the body God gave you.
Treasure the people around you.
Make memories while you can.
Care for your body, soul, and relationships.
And never underestimate the joy of simply being able to play.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend!
Dr. Derek “Turkey Bowl Survivor” Taylor
www.taylorchirolaser.com
(561) 867-1020
