Zombie are definitely “in” these days. Even if you don’t like the whole zombie thing (and “zombie-thing” has an increasingly broad definition, so past detractors might want to reconsider their criticisms), anybody with a pulse (again, depending on your definition, unlike the zombies) must have noticed the current cultural heft of the undead. I’ve spent a good deal of time thinking about the allure of this particular construct – shambling, deadened eyes, wandering the streets, relentless if mindless in their single-minded pursuit (gonna hit the malls today?) – and it doesn’t take too long to wander into some social commentary.
I’ve written non-fiction about zombies in an essay for Boston.com, and I’ve even taken a stab at writing a novel, The Zombie Autopsies, due to come out in March. All of this has been quite the ride, but my point here is not to muse yet again about this ongoing weighty meme; rather, I just wondered, if the zombie apocalypse took place, whether it might change the nature of Thanksgiving Football. I mean, Thanksgiving Football is as constant as the rising sun, so it’s hard to imagine even a zombified end of the world interfering with this aspect of the natural course of things. Still, the experience might, I suppose, change a bit…
This Year’s Zombie Thanksgiving Football Recap
Play has only recently stopped in this hard if lugubriously fought annual Turkey Day contest between the Cambridge Corpses and the Detroit Dead.
Squads stumbled onto the side-lines, this time kept in place by strategic use of fireworks and other loud noises. When necessary, an MIT developed odor-projector that propels the scent of viscera along relatively straight lines was utilized to direct players to their appropriate benches.
The coin toss was difficult as expected. A 2010 commemorative Quarter meant to mark the annual zombie football Thanksgiving match-up had spent the night neatly tucked inside the promoter’s slow roasting turkey in order to entice team captains from both sides to examine the authenticity of the coin. An early and clumsy fight broke out when the captain of the Corpses insisted on chewing on the Quarter before the coin toss, resulting in a glaring display of remarkable gingivitis and an early ejection from the game, as well as a crowd pleasing decapitation in order to retrieve the coin for one lucky fan yet to be announced. As the captain of the Corpses was slated to start at quarterback, his team was thus forced to turn to their second string team leader who was at that moment noshing on a femur while huddling underneath the portable heater.
After approximately 2 hours and numerous commercial breaks (sponsors included the makers of Purell and the U.S. Centers for Disease Control) the game began with a stunning onsides kick in which a remarkable 5 or 6 players actually went for the ball rather than the foot.
Play was then again somewhat delayed after members of the dwindling but still enthusiastic crowd opened fire with vinyl LP’s (in homage to Shaun of the Dead), and statisticians later determined that the most commonly thrown discs were the 1978 “Christmas with the Carpenters” and Twisted Sister’s “Stay Hungry.” There were in fact some direct hits from well-trained fans for which special tee- shirts “signed” by team captains were awarded. Shirts were irradiated according to protocol to preserve viral sterility.
The first actual play of the game took place almost 3 hours after the opening whistle. As the rules call for no ties, at this point the game was in quintuple overtime, assuring endless and often repetitive, predictable albeit enjoyable sequels in years to come.
The crowd perimeter unfortunately broke at the 3 hour and 37 minute mark when a tired and half-hearted attempt at the wave from the audience was enough to distract both teams from the remaining fireworks that had until that point kept the undead safely on the field.
The score remains 0 to 0, and citizens are advised to remain indoors as clean up procedures move forward.
Enjoy your Turkey safely within the confines of your CDC-approved bunkers.
