Milford: The Turkey Treatise II

Part 2- Clearing the table

According to William Makepeace Thackeray in…

A Credo:

As Doctor Martin Luther sang:

“Who loves not wine, woman and song,

He is a fool his whole life long!”

Forget your Sunday school lessons, Virtue is a-moral.  Yes, people use it as a synonym for ethics, but it carries its own weight as something pre-moral.  The ethics coming afterward direct the employment of virtue. For instance, two agents possessing the same virtues, though directed by different codes of conduct, earns such labels as villain or hero.  Apart from these end game motivations is the evolving nuts and bolts of virtue acquisition.  Accessing virtue comes before and despite any dogma a human can suffer, therefore, Virtue can arise from the most unlikely of activities.  For instance: to party. A moment for this “mind game” to borrow a concept from John Lennon.  To party is to engage in the performative arts (and a livelier case study than that of lifting weights or baking bread).  Here, we find an amalgamation of harmonizing disciplines.  Of rhetoric and comedy, of music played or sung, of dance.  Flip the whole party animal dissection over and there are other systems of a successful socialite hard at work. There is diligence in the grind of being out late in public spaces.  There is the wisdom of where to be and when to leave. There is self-trust and friendship.  For those who partake in any altering substances, there is the raising of tolerance and the discipline of self-care.  There is something further, something special here at play.  Unlike mere skillful competition, there is not always the culmination of a winner and a loser.  Letting loose, enjoying life, flying the freak flag is capable of a natural transcendence; of being a celebration wherein all participants win.  Let’s face it, it can also go off the rails.  We could all lose.  This potential unhinging somehow affords an added excitement by virtue of being such a risk.  At least to the luck struck, or the naive. Or to my family.

 “Within some families, going out drinking includes some level of making a spectacle of oneself.  Many of these families are concentrated in the greater Boston area, and mine be such a trifling crew.” My pirate narration served as a sort of pep talk to the others.  “Contrary to the seemingly reserved trek across this Milford oval, our bunch be ready to party.  Granted, there was the pregame at the house.  And true, we’ll end the night there settling into a YouTube sing song with a night cap or two.  But this be many pints away yet.  And if the bar is bold enough to offer any old body a mic and a song choice, then it’s game on here and now!”  The swashbuckling documentary was completed with the opening of the tavern doors, as we all crammed in to fight over who was paying for the first round. Then it was on. The shenanigans. It starts with Jill goofy dancing while an old timer sings Johnny Cash, swinging her legs side to side like a ringing bell, while pumping her arms like she’s inflating a bike tire.  Soon we are cheering the summoning of our very own as Ribitts and Tad depart for their shared spotlight.  That 4 minutes on the karaoke stage is the highlight of some people’s week.  It’s easy to tell for whom.  Not just because they are back on stage every 5 songs, but they can normally sing better than I could procrastinate, and all power to them…but the Simon Cowell audition is not our way.  Our approach calls for a loose song with flair and dramatics, to have fun with.   Something the crowd can get involved with. “What it takes” by Aerosmith does nicely.  Just the right touch of sentiment, building towards satisfying climatic yelling sections, joined in by patrons who drown out anyone who can actually hit the high notes. The DJ ties a fabric napkin to Tad’s microphone stand for Steven Tyler authenticity mid song, a nice touch!  

Across a small island of tables pushed together and littered with half eaten apps and various drinks, the in-laws of the couzinpolooza have an impromptu meeting.  “I know what you’re thinking” the elder yells to the newcomer, “what have I done?  Is it too late to escape?” there is a brief pause before he again raises his voice above the bar noises and our laughter. “It’s ok, we’ve aaall been there.” Mitzy takes a deep swig of his lager before returning his eyes to Bug.  “We’ve got to stick together to survive this family.” He says, slowly waving his outstretched finger between the non-blood faction of the family. 

According to International Foosball Promotions

Tornado Championships had a whopping $115,000 in prize money in 2023.

2024 State championships have a large purse varying by state. 12k Illinois, 15k Florida, 15.5k Wisconsin, 20k in Kentucky and Oklahoma, 30k in New Orleans, LA…

Captain Obvious would like you to know that cultivating virtue is not without its unpleasantness. If one has never been exposed to sports, one could not hope to appreciate the mini world of drama that absorb public spaces specifically.  A pickup game at the park is dialectically different than the safety and solitude of shooting hoops in one’s own driveway. Walking onto the public basketball court could reveal mental patterns similar to a gladiator entering the coliseum to combat with hitherto unknown enemies and allies.  Granted, the whole life or death thing isn’t there, but the same hormones must be dealt with.  Sizing up the players and being sized up, maybe even being verbally challenged or mocked.  The management of inner turmoil is the standard ante towards exercising virtue.  Courage is required to perform despite an adrenaline off-balance.  Humility is offered each time you put yourself on display in competition.  Discipline must govern the retaliation against dirty opponents of loose tongue and elbow. 

  It’s not just pickup hoops either.  A chess game versus the old guy at town square, with rolled out vinyl mat board and the timer clock is pure spectacle, people gathered round, and tension in the air.  Then there are your bowling leagues, your giant casinos, your MMO’s, your horseshoe pits, MTG tournaments, and beyond. The court and its players make all the difference.  The cast of characters may not offer much challenge one day, but on another, may school you in the fine art of shit talking and backing it up.  People hop in cars, or trains, and take flights to spend their free time engaged in tournaments.  Hell, to watch others play games be they amateur level or professional. 

But then there is my favorite type of leisure game.  Beloved and easily accessible, these are the one’s played in the backyard, park, beach, or bar.  What makes bar and lawn games special, is the complimentary nature of drink with the contest.  Some wonderful games require one hand to be occupied with a beverage, ie. pole frisbee (to say nothing of straight up drinking games; a youthful perversion of the drinking ritual that arrives at overconsumption all to quickly).  You would think that the guys throwing darts in the pub are also enjoying some libations between throws.

Which begs the question, is a sober player on the tavern billiards table a fucking cheater?  Well, cousin Dingus thinks so, his thick accent dispatching his banter to whoever will listen.  His clamorous vigor totters on the brink of an aggravated or boisterous drunk, like a baby undecided on tears or smiles.  Across the room, I and my mistress are being hailed as the ringers from LA as we best team after team on the foosball table.  Well, the same team, but they keep rematching, building the rivalry.  “I think I’ll become a professional golfer my darling” she says to me as she flips the ball ahead to my offensive line.  “Oh what a good idea, why didn’t I think of that?” our defensive opponent, whom I’ve privately nicknamed Stumpy, responds snarkily.  I flash her a menacing smile.  “In Europe, I’ve heard that the losers have to sit under the table till the next match as punishment.” She retorts coolly, before delivering a well-timed canister blaster shot from the back line.  I can respect this European pageantry, though am content with the challenger feeding the quarters necessary to collect the game ball.  I think this while delivering a habitual high five and reach for the ball. Something about a pay to play table does make the game more precious.  “What makes you think you could compete with athletes who have been playing since they could walk?” I prod her as we all lean in for the next ball drop.

“That’s just it” my goalie explains “their bodies are worn out from years of repetitive motion, mine will be fresh.  I don’t need to be the best to make bank.  What’s the 50^th best woman golfers salary? 2 million?  I’ll revolutionize the professional world post partum.”  _{(According to lpga.com, in 2024, the 50^th earner was Megan Khang, an American, earning $560,600 via 16 events played by August.)}

According to The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows…

the meantime:

n. the moment of realization that your quintessential future self isn’t ever going to show up, which forces the role to fall upon the understudy, the gawky kid who spent years mouthing their lines in the wings before being shoved into the glare of your life, which is already well into its second act.

Crossing the Milford oval to go to another building feels reminiscent of crossing a campus quad. We are approaching the sounds of live music which has become our next destination. This venue, like those before, is comfortably crowded, with a small wait to get an order in.  Leaning against the bar is the perfect place to take in a new surroundings.  There is a two-piece cover band setting up for our entertainment; guitar, drums, a keyboard is there too.  The PA system is turned up to 11 in the interim, and who but Bon Jovi sounds! To an east coast event, JBJ is the pied piper that activates the entire crowd to instant mayhem, as if it were a live concert.  Jill is into it; our spotlight champ will not be accused of having a lame time.  She is rabidly bee lining to the front like a charmed rat, with arms high in the air.  She begins escalating her air guitar and lip syncing as we join in and egg her on.  Eventually, all eyes are on her as she climbs on top of a highchair, hamming it up.  Her outstretched hand grazes the ceiling, while the musicians beam at the crowd’s enthusiasm, seemingly tickled she’s grabbed their mic for a prop.  

I turn to a heavy paw on my shoulder and find Mitzy out of breath and almost shouting.  Animated, he tells me “Dude, I just thought that you was at the bahh…So I was straight up sexy crawling towards you on the floor and clawing at your leg with my wolf face. And when the guy turned around, it wasn’t you!  I just stood up and nodded ‘hey’ then left.”  Mitzy doubled over in laughter as I looked over his shoulder to see if there was any commotion left at the bar.

“The bah tendahs ahn’t gonna  cut you off fa such tomfoolery, they smuhrk at the free entahtainment.”  Cousin Dingus bellows out. “It would be like an NYC cop stopping a Jaywalkah, they have way mohwah important fish to fry.” 

Now that is the voice of someone who is looking out.  While each member of the crew naturally prods on the other to act the fool, we also keep each other reigned in enough to not get cut off.  Does this Brady loving bunch know the meaning of “You’re 86’d”? That’s like asking a nutcracker if its ever heard of a pecan.  Or is it pronounced pecan?  Either way, it makes a delicious breakfast pie.

According to Cicero(106-43bc)…

Gratitude:

Gratitude is not only the greatest of the virtues, but parent of all the others.

    Special holiday challenges, from this UD correspondent to you, dear reader:

Do get properly psyched about the upcoming holiday revolving around a meal of many courses.  This alone is reason for celebration.  Skip the black Friday stampede and think about organizing your own palooza of misfit family and friends instead, to go out with, be silly, and maybe log an uncharted dive in the process.  While you’re out there, perhaps find someone to play a game with, and see what virtues open to you in the process. This turkey day, there is no need to catch the eye roll contagion, just cause you’re meant to be thankful.  Instead, calibrate gratitude as the lens you live through right now and see how this attitude transforms this moment. Come join the party.  Drink up life, keep it draining you. 

Cheers!

-wara

Did you miss Part 1 of the Turkey Treatise? click here