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The Tradition that will never die.

by Gary Armida 

I’ve written previously about how baseball should not let tradition ruin progress. While I believe that is true, it does not hold true for everything in life. Some things need to be cherished, nurtured, and kept alive at all costs. Fortunately for me, I have one of those traditions in my life.

The Armida Family Football game started more than 25 years ago, first as a mixed gender game with kids, Dads, Moms, Aunts, Uncles, and then evolved into a Father-Son Thanksgiving Day tradition a couple of years later. The Armida family is a baseball family, but every Thanksgiving turns to football.

The game first started as the Fathers versus the Sons. For years, being the oldest, I was in charge of our team. We’d practice, design trick plays, come up with strategies to tire out the “old men” (who were only in their 20’s, 30’s and 40’s at the time). Every year, just like the Miami Dolphins of the 2000’s, we’d lose. We would come close, but something would always happen. I would throw the pick, my brother would hit his head on a rock and drop the game winning pass (I never saw that rock!), or we would give up that last minute, game winning touchdown to the Uncle who dropped 10 passes all game.

Finally, one year (I don’t remember the year), we broke through. The kids beat the adults; I think I was in college at the time! My brother, in his Curt Warner jersey was able to throw bombs to my two cousins in their Wayne Chrebet and Edggerin James jerseys, while I became the short yardage guy in my Brett Favre jersey. That victory, at that time, was so important to us. “The Game” was something we all looked forward to every year. It has become ingrained in our family illustrated by the fact that my one cousin (the Wayne Chrebet fan) tried to talk his way into playing just weeks after having transplant surgery. When we all said no, he stormed out of the house. Tradition, even in this case, is good.

Now the game has evolved into more of a mix’em up game, a game for fun (but we all still like to win) and something I look forward to every year. Today (which was more of the traditional Fathers vs. Sons), I took a look around the field during our five minute halftime and thought how great that this game still lives on. Tradition is good.

  My Dad, 53 years old, is still the fastest, most athletic guy on the field. My Uncle, 50 years old, is still a speed burner who likes to talk a good game too. My Uncle, in his early 40’s, is still the hardest guy to cover in the game. My brother-in-law (35), who I just refer to as my brother, is still the guy with the biggest heart on the field and strongest desire to perform well. My kid brother (27) is still the guy whose talents are limitless, whose jokes are limitless, and whose flair for the dramatic and spectacular play is, well, limitless. This year, my long-lost cousin (21–”the Edge” jersey) returned to “the game” with the same speed, quick cuts, smile, and humor that helped lead us to that victory those years ago. A new generation is popping up now as my two cousins, 18 and 13, are the new factors in the game. They play the game with the same intensity that we played with at their age. They get the meaning of the game. The family then extends to my Uncle’s brother and his two sons. Although my team lost today (because of my stupid pick with my noodle arm at 32 years old), the game meant something more. Everyone on that field today had good, bad, and ugly moments (with the exception of Dad who had zero ugly moments). In the end, we walked off the field sore, laughing, thankful for another great game to add to the memory bank, and most importantly,  thankful that nobody tore something of significance.

I’m lucky to have a wife who understands the importance of waking up early on Thanksgiving to get to the field by 7:45 AM and then coming home muddy and really sore (which gets worse every year–both the mud and soreness). After the obligatory, “don’t get mud in here” comments, her questions always turn to the game where I probably give her more than she wants to hear. This year when I got home, I saw my wife in the kitchen with her four month pregnant stomach slightly puffed out (she’s beautiful!). As I went upstairs, I realized that by next year I will be a Dad. In six years, at age 38, I’ll be bringing my 6 year old to his/her first Thanksgiving Day Football game (if it’s a girl, the game is going back to co-ed!). Tradition is good.

Today my Uncle challenged me to being able to continue playing in ”The Game” 18 years from now. There is no doubt in my mind that this game will be going on. My two brothers, cousins, and I owe it to my Dad and Uncles to keep this tradition going. They keep showing up year after year and always play well, have fun, and show us once again why they are the best family men in the world. 

I’ll be there at 50, my brothers will be there, my Uncles will still be playing, my cousins will be there with kids of their own too. My child (it’s still weird to say that phrase) will be there too wanting to beat his old man. And Dad, well, he’ll still be the best player on the field at 71. 

Editor’s Note: We’ll be back to baseball content on the next feature article as this was a special feature today.