Everybody Keeps Up With The Joneses

It's Thanksgiving weekend, so no Five That Matter this week, because family is what really matters. But, since it IS family that matters, Zac has some special Thanksgiving greetings for a very special football family...


Hey there Jones boys. Whatcha doing? Talking about Thanksgiving with the family? Wow, what must that have been like? Did you all get together and eat mediocre turkey, slightly burnt mediocre stuffing, mediocre tasteless canned cranberry dressing, and perhaps something mediocre and vanilla for desert? I mean, I'm pretty sure it must have been like that, given your family's clear distaste for anything remotely like excitement.

Oooh, maybe you guys are giving each other advice on the best way to get home. Or maybe you're talking aout what it's like to get less than twenty carries a game? Ah, I know, you're comparing notes on how to swallow that little feeling of self loathing you must get when someone else on your team who lacks anything resembling your pedigree shows you up time and time again. Yeah, that must be it.

Maybe you're comparing notes about how much you hated your old coaches. Julius, remember when you said that Bill Parcells made you run like a robot? Man, you're right, that's way worse than Wade Phillips, who just doesn't make you run at all. Hey, Thomas, does it sting that once again, the coach is making sacrifices to keep you on the field when someone better is available. But hey, at least here, the someone better is actually much better, not like that prick Benson in Chicago.

Well, hey, don't mind me boys, you'd better get back to Thanksgiving. Hey, are you guys gonna play the traditional Jones family football game? Wow, that's awesome. What are the total rushing yards in that game, eighteen? Maybe twenty if you can remember not to run into Uncle Frank's back like you do with every one of your offensive linemen? Just try to remember when you come back that in the NFL they don't play two hand tag, and you're expected to, you know, not go down as soon as someone brushes your back.

Asshats.