Thanksgiving isn't about food or reunions. No, it's about one thing.

Battles are won and lost over many different types of tables: Beer pong and poker to name a few.

I feel I have mastered both of the aforementioned but one remains a struggle for me: The ping pong table.

Once every year the dust comes off of the crusty and faded red-and-yellow paddles and the table dominates my grandparents garage.

Naturally, every year I feel confident in my game. I’ve been working out for a month now and my stamina is much better than last year.

The struggle comes because there’s still one relative that continues to haunt my Thanksgiving Eve nightmares.

My sister? Her game’s laughable. My cousin? I once beat him 21 to -3. My aunt? Blacked out drunk.

No, no, this competitor is no one else but my 79-year-old grandfather.

It’s not that we’re that bad; he’s that good.

The guy is a freak of nature. He doesn’t know what “caps lock” means but he can paint the corners of the ping pong table any day of the week.

Trouble is he claims to only play once every year: Thanksgiving.

Well, as we all get settled in at my grandparents, he casually walks by the table and grabs a paddle.

He looks at it like he didn’t have this set up all along, he then looks up at me and smiles.

“You want to play?” He asks.

These four words triggered the ping pong battle of 2008.

He gave me my choice of paddles and I stood on my side ready and confident. This year, I will finally take down my grandpa in this five-game series.

Game one went to my grandfather, 21-15. The score doesn’t indicate how poorly I played. The rust was evident and I was down 19-7 at one point. But on those 15 points I scored I built confidence.

Game two also went to my grandfather, 21-19. This time the contest was intense. My cell phone in fact flew out of my jacket during the match as I dove for the ball. My efforts came during a loss, however, and all of a sudden this best-of-five series was shaping up to be a sweep.

I put the paddle down and gave us both some time to rest. I was mentally and physically tired, and my grandpa.. OK, well maybe it was just to give me time to rest.

During this intermission I played two games of beer pong and finished a few side beers and as I grabbed the paddle to partake in game three I was feeling a little buzzed.

Doing my best John Daily impression, I jumped out to a quick 7-2 lead. Maybe the drinks helped.

After a few impressive rallies my lead swelled to 18-9. All of a sudden I realized Daily may have been on to something. Despite the fact that we were out of beer, I stayed buzzed and won the game.

Game four remained in my momentum as I cruised to a 21-16 victory. My grandpa’s eyes bled of defeat and I felt confident I could finally beat him. The taunts of him saying “how does it feel to lose to a 79-year-old man” ran through my head and I used that as motivation.

I felt like he was Michael Jordan circa 2000 and I was Kobe Bryant. After all these years finally it was my time.

But game five ended almost as quickly as it began. His power, poise and confidence led him to a brilliant 21-14 victory.

The title and the series was his, and he was ready to go again. However my grandma pried him away from the table.

And that was it. The man who cooked my turkey this year stuffed me at the ping pong table (Sorry, I had to get in one bad Thanksgiving Day PUN).

So he set the paddle down once again for another 365 days, or so he claims.

You can look at that as 365 days of waiting, but I look at it as 365 days of training.

But before we folded up the table and stashed it away I got a quick game against my aunt, who may or may not remember the result, but I scored a cheap victory.

I needed something to hold on to until that soon to be 80-year-old man utters those four words that start the Thanksgiving Day battle of 2009.