The true meaning of Thanksgiving

I really couldn't wait for Thanksgiving this year. I needed a break from everything like you could not believe. I just could not wait to plop my fat ass down on a couch (or in a recliner or anywhere that I could be comfortable) and watch sports. Or play video games. Or just sit there and stare at the wall.

But things weren't always like this. I used to hate Thanksgiving.

I started wrestling in the fifth grade. If you don't know anything about the sport, let me tell you one of the horrible, horrible things about it. The season tends to start right around Thanksgiving. That always sucked.

I didn't mind too much as a kid. Back then, I didn't have to lose any weight or anything crazy like that. And the tournaments weren't always as important before I got to high school. Lastly, there was the small matter of me being a pretty crappy wrestler at that age.

I started to get better in high school. And the tournaments started getting harder. And I had to watch my weight more. And sometimes they scheduled tournaments for the day after Thanksgiving. I hated that tournament.

One year, I remember having to eat just a small helping of all my favorite things, then bundle up in several layers of clothes so that I sweat a whole lot when I went running after dinner.

The Pilgrims did not cook turkey and watch football so we could go for a nice punishing run after rationing out just enough food to sustain us without adding too much weight.

They put in a lot of effort in picking the Indians to eat with because they knew that a pro football team would have an Indian-like name. They chose the tastiest poultry you could find. They decided to do it on a Thursday so we could get a really long weekend. They did everything right, but my choice of sport made it difficult for me to really enjoy the holiday.

I had the added burden of going to a high school that had one of those traditional Thanksgiving Day football games. We would play our big rival in old Memorial Stadium in Baltimore at 10 a.m. every Thanksgiving.

Like all good rivalries, this one had plenty of pre-gaming going on. I didn't really drink in high school so that kept me on the outside enough, but I couldn't even go and enjoy something extra to eat or just hang out in the early hours before the game.

Since we lost the big game three out of my four years in high school, I came to associate Thanksgiving with starving, exercise and futility. Even when we won my senior year, I was upset in the finals of the early season wrestling tournament, which made all the hard work just feel useless.

Things didn't get much better in college. Our year was divided into trimesters, and the first trimester ended right before Thanksgiving. We would not have to come back to school until after January so things could get a little crazy after first term finals.

Well, except for those of us who had to get ready for the beginning of our season. I remember having to drive home on Wednesday, be careful of what I ate on Thursday, then head back for practice on Friday. We'd stay there for more than two weeks, wrestling a few matches and a tournament or two, but mostly practicing and sitting around and doing nothing.

That's how I came to really dread this time of year. Luckily, things have changed so much. I only had to work two days this week. But more importantly, I am going to eat the hell out of that turkey on Thanksgiving.

I really love how I can fully enjoy this holiday now. You don't have to worry about the pressure of buying presents. In fact, you shouldn't think about buying presents until you have eaten all your food, digested it and spent Friday laying around remembering how awesome it was to eat all that food. But the bastardization of Christmas shopping is another topic for another day.

Right now, I just want to sit back, eat a lot of turkey and watch big guys in helmets and pads try to knock the crap out of each other. Because that's what the Pilgrims wanted us to do.

Brian Shea is probably enjoying a beer in his basement right now. You can contact him at columns@regularguycolumn.com.