Source – High school football is a common sight on Thanksgiving morning in Massachusetts. But this year, multiple contests throughout the Commonwealth have been pushed back to Wednesday night to avoid the cold temperatures expected the morning of Turkey Day.
In total, 31 games scheduled originally for Thursday have been changed to Wednesday, with game times spanning from the mid-afternoon to the late evening.
One contest has even been canceled, with both athletic directors of Nipmuc Regional and Blackstone Valley announcing that their Thanksgiving Day game will not take place due to the weather and poor field conditions.
We talk a lot around here about snowflake kids, campus life that’s all about safe spaces, easily triggered SJWs and an entire population on the verge of being too scared and too soft to get out of bed in the morning. And yet might be the single greatest example of the Pussification of America these eyes have ever seen in all my years of blogging.
So you know what I’m talking about, here is the forecast for Thanksgiving Day:
Dry. Sunny. Cold. Windy. As in the low 20s with the wind chill in the upper teens. This is not a “weather event.” There’s no state of emergency. There won’t be weather guys on the local stations working around the clock with their ties undone with up-to-the-minute updates on the accumulation of … well of anything. No reporters in waterproof gear down by the seawall grabbing onto lightpoles. It’s going to be chilly. But rather than carry on one of the great traditions of our culture – one of the simple, communal joys that makes life in Massachusetts worth living – by just assuming we are sentient beings capable of dressing ourselves, programs all over the place are moving the games to Wednesday.
If you’re not a Masshole and don’t get what the deal is with Thanksgiving Day high school football, you’re missing out. For all but the few schools making the playoffs, it’s the last game for the seniors. And for all but the infinitesimal few players going on to play in college, it’s the last tackle football game of their lives. Same for cheerleaders. The band. The parents. When my older son played his last game, we got to go onto the field with him as they announced his name and gave his mom flowers. You play your traditional rival school. Plus it becomes a reunion for past students to show up and see people they’d otherwise never see once they graduate. It’s a pure good.
And a special event, made all the more special by the fact it’s at 10 a.m. followed by everyone going home and enjoying the best holiday ever devised by man. Comfort food, day drinking, gratitude and football. Just the way Lincoln pictured it when he invented the thing. And it’s meant to be played in the elements.
But this is what we’ve come to. 22 degrees and breezy is enough to reschedule, and God forbid cancel altogether, special events in a part of the country that used to pride itself on being able to handle anything. 240 years after rugged men dragged the cannons captured at Fort Ticonderoga with oxen across the state and up Dorchester Heights to scare the British ships into leaving Boston Harbor, we can’t be trusted to dress ourselves. Or to decide to stay home. What a pathetic joke.
I’m proud to report that the town I live is keeping the game where it belongs. I’m the biggest puss in the world when it comes to the cold, but I’ll wear what I’ve got to wear and drink whatever I need to to stay warm. And I’ll have another son playing the trumpet who’ll dress appropriately, suck it up in his final game and enjoy the hell out himself like always. I just wish every town government cared about tradition more than treating their populace like children.