Lions QB: Who's Supposed to Be There, & What's the 2025 'Plan'?

The Thanksgiving Football Farce: Turkey, Touchdowns, and the Unseen Price Tag

Alright, let's talk turkey. Or rather, let's talk about the idea of turkey and football, shoved down our throats every single Thanksgiving like some kind of mandatory, gluttonous ritual. They call it tradition, right? A wholesome, all-American institution where families gather, give thanks, and then glue themselves to the TV to watch grown men bash each other for corporate glory. Give me a break.

I’m looking at these headlines, and honestly, it’s the same old song and dance. You’ve got Jared Goff, the Lions’ current lions qb, talking about "embracing the tradition" of playing on Thanksgiving. He even mentions "taking that bite of the turkey" after a win. You know what that sounds like to me? A man who’s been told exactly what to say by some PR flack. It’s a performance, a little slice of manufactured Americana designed to make you feel warm and fuzzy about the NFL’s relentless march into every corner of our lives.

He’s playing a division rival, the Green Bay Packers, in a "crucial" game for a playoff spot. Of course it is. Every game is "crucial." It’s a marketing buzzword, a way to amp up the manufactured drama. Last year, the Lions were supposedly on the cusp of a Super Bowl run, sitting pretty at 11-1. Now? They’re 7-4 in "one of the NFL's most challenging divisions," apparently. A division where the Bears are leading at 8-3. So, what happened to that Super Bowl belief, huh? Did it just evaporate into the crisp November air like so much steam from a gravy boat? Or was it always just a whisper, a hopeful delusion cooked up by the same media that now tells us this particular game is the be-all and end-all for Detroit? I gotta ask, are we really supposed to believe that every single year, the stakes are higher than ever before? It feels like Groundhog Day, but with more shoulder pads.

Goff says, "We're a different team. They're a different team." Yeah, no kidding, captain obvious. That's how sports works, rosters change, players get old or injured, coaches get fired. It's the most generic non-answer you could give, a verbal shrug that tells me absolutely nothing about the actual dynamics on the field. It’s like saying, "The sky is blue, sometimes." Profound stuff.

Beyond the Gridiron: A Glimpse of Real Life

But here’s where it gets interesting, and where the NFL’s shiny, plastic narrative starts to crack a little. While Goff is talking about his "first win" on Thanksgiving and that symbolic turkey bite – a staged photo-op waiting to happen, I'm sure – there's another story bubbling up. It’s the kind of story that reminds you that these players, these people, have lives beyond the field, beyond the cameras, and beyond the relentless pursuit of another win for the corporate machine.

Enter Rodney Peete, an actual former NFL quarterback who actually played for the Lions on Thanksgiving. His story, and more importantly, his family's story, is a stark contrast to the manufactured hype. He remembers a Thanksgiving that had absolutely nothing to do with a good or bad game. It was about his then 3-year-old son, RJ, struggling with an autism diagnosis, overwhelmed by a forced suit and a chaotic holiday table. "He was throwing his food around. He was completely sensorially overwhelmed and was just not happy," his wife, Holly Robinson Peete, said. Can you imagine? While some of us were probably yelling at the TV about a missed tackle, this family was navigating a truly heartbreaking, deeply personal moment.

That’s the thing, ain't it? We get so caught up in the fantasy, the spectacle, that we forget the real struggles. Rodney Peete, the tough NFL quarterback, admitted he was in denial, wanting to "coach it out of him." That's a human reaction, a father struggling to cope. It wasn't about a game plan then; it was about his kid. Holly, bless her, was the one who rolled up her sleeves, did the homework, and helped him shift from a "coach it out" mentality to one of advocacy and acceptance. That's real teamwork, not the kind they talk about in a locker room. That’s the kind that builds something lasting.

Now, RJ is 28, working for the Dodgers, a popular figure, an advocate. They found humor in the tough times, sharing their stories to give hope. That’s a narrative arc you can believe in, a genuine human triumph. It puts Goff's "embracing tradition" and "different team" platitudes into sharp, cynical relief. While the NFL pushes the same old storyline, the Peetes are out there living one that’s actually meaningful. It makes me wonder, how many other players are out there, forcing smiles for the camera on Thanksgiving, while their families are dealing with their own quiet struggles, far from the roar of Ford Field? We’ll never know, because that’s not the story the NFL wants to sell you.

Give Me Something Real, Not This Fluff

So, yeah, the Lions will play the Packers. Jared Goff, the who is the lions qb for 2025 (or at least, for this upcoming game), will probably throw some passes. Maybe they’ll win, maybe they’ll lose. Maybe he’ll get his bite of turkey, and the cameras will dutifully capture it. But while the talking heads dissect every play and speculate on the lions qb depth chart, I’ll be thinking about RJ Peete, and his parents who found a way to turn struggle into advocacy. That, my friends, is a story with some actual meat on its bones, not just a bunch of pre-packaged stuffing.