So, how’s the food coma treating you? If you’re anything like me, you’re currently composed of approximately 65% stuffing, 30% regret, and 5% vague memories of football games that happened while you were slipping in and out of consciousness on the couch. But hey, we made it. Another Thanksgiving in the books, another year of pretending we definitely didn’t unbutton our pants at the dinner table.
Let’s talk about the football, though, because honestly, the NFL scriptwriters really outdid themselves this year. It wasn’t just about the touchdowns; it was about the absolute chaos, the meme-worthy moments, and the sheer absurdity that only Thanksgiving football can provide.
First up, we had the Packers vs. Lions, and let me tell you, Detroit fans are probably still staring at the ceiling wondering what happened. The Packers walked into Ford Field and decided the only thing they were hungry for was a victorty — and apparently, a massive turkey leg. Green Bay took it 31-24, and Jordan Love looked like he was playing a different sport than everyone else. The man threw four touchdown passes like he was tossing dinner rolls across the table.
The highlight wasn’t even the game, though. It was the post-game celebration. Watching Jordan Love rip into that turkey leg with the ferocity of a man who hasn’t eaten in three days was a spiritual experience. I’m pretty sure he took a bite out of the bone at one point. And can we talk about the halftime show? Jack White and Eminem? In Detroit? Come on. It was the most “Motor City” thing to ever happen. It was loud, it was chaotic, and it was exactly what we needed to wake us up from our midday slump. The Lions might have lost the game, but they definitely won the nostalgia war.
Then came the main course: Cowboys vs. Chiefs. Now, this was billed as the “Super Bowl preview,” but it turned into a dramatic soap opera featuring the sun. Yes, the sun. The giant celestial body that Jerry Jones refuses to acknowledge is a problem because, I don’t know, curtains are too expensive? The glare was so bad in the first half that players were squinting like they just walked out of a movie theater at noon.
Despite the solar interference, the Cowboys actually pulled it off, winning 31-28. Dak Prescott out-dueled Patrick Mahomes, which is a sentence I didn’t think I’d be typing or reading today, but here we are. Dak threw for 320 yards, and the connection with CeeDee Lamb was basically unstoppable. Meanwhile, Mahomes threw four touchdowns but still lost, proving that sometimes you can do everything right and still get beat by a team whose stadium is actively trying to blind you.
Also, did anyone catch George Pickens hurdling a defender like he was in the Olympics? It was filthy. And Post Malone at halftime? The man is a national treasure. Watching him belt out country tunes while wearing a Cowboys jersey was the most Texas thing to happen since brisket.
Finally, for the nightcap, we had the Ravens vs. Bengals. If you stayed up for this one, you were treated to a comedy of errors courtesy of the Baltimore Ravens. I don’t know if they greased the ball before the game or if Lamar Jackson just had too much gravy on his fingers, but the turnovers were out of control. The Ravens turned the ball over five times. You simply cannot win a football game when you treat the football like a hot potato.
The Bengals won 32-14, and honestly, it wasn’t even that close. Joe Burrow came back from injury and looked like he hadn’t missed a beat, cool as a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce. Evan McPherson was the real MVP, though, kicking five field goals. The guy has ice in his veins. At one point, the Ravens fans looked so stunned they stopped booing and just started staring into the void. It was a rough night for Baltimore, but a great night for anyone who bet the under on Lamar’s ball security.
Here’s the thing, folks: The Packers feasted, the Cowboys survived the sun, and the Ravens fumbled their way into oblivion. It was a glorious day of football, filled with high scores, questionable coaching decisions, and enough calories to fuel a small nation.
With that… If you’ll excuse me, I have a leftover turkey sandwich with my name on it. And yes, I’m putting the moist maker in the middle. I’m not an animal. Until Sunday, friends. Try not to pull a hamstring reaching for the remote.
If you cannot play with them, then root for them!