I am an introverted bookworm who writes articles about social issues and songs about love. It should come as no surprise that my knowledge in football is not extensive.

But even so, I find myself appreciating football as more than just a sport.

Every year on Thanksgiving, I wake up to the sound of a water faucet and sound of sports announcers talking themselves into a frenzy. The TV remains on the entire day while everyone in my house shuffles around preparing dinner.

The men in my family are the only ones educated enough about the sport to feel compelled to yell when the Dallas Cowboys score a touchdown. You know how it goes: they start by aggressively muttering “come on” and escalate to a brand of full-blown excitement that is specific to football games. They stand up, do a strange little victory dance with their fists in the air, and settle back down with a bit more enthusiasm than before.

While I find it pointless to understand football at age 18, I sit down with my dad and ask him questions about the game until I can grasp the concept well enough to participate in that joy when the Cowboys scores. This allows me to realize how lucky I am to be surrounded by a family that can be so carefree when we’re all together. 

This feeling isn’t exclusive to me. Football has served as the perfect pastime on Thanksgiving for families across America for more than a hundred years, and the day always ends with the warm and comfy tradition of giving thanks for everything we have. 

When I sit down for that long-awaited Thanksgiving dinner, I remind myself how thankful I am for my family, and for our ability to find a common joy of classic, American football.

Follow Camila Villarreal (@fliipthewriter) and @CHSCampusNews on Twitter.