Aging not what I hoped it would be

Local columnist

link Karl Terry

Sometimes that first step after getting out of the bed in the morning is the hardest one.

I never thought of myself as a weenie but aging is not what I had hoped it would be. I thought I would probably still be playing handball or at least racquetball into my 50s, but the thought of throwing my body into a wall or diving for a shot makes me hurt just to think about it.

In my 20s I remember playing softball with guys more than twice my age and I figured that could be me some day. My long-ball hitting never got any better though and the older (and slower) I got the less successful I was as a Texas League hitter.

X-rays have revealed arthritis in my spine and I don’t need anyone to tell me it’s arthritis in my fingers that keep me from buttoning shirts and tying ties. I can barely tie my shoes some mornings.

These days if I get down on the ground to do something it’s not pretty or graceful when I try to get back up. I work real hard making sure no one has to see that sight.

I’ve always been awed by watching the old guys compete. They’re crafty, they don’t make any moves that they don’t have to make and they really psyche out other athletes.

I remember competing against an older gentleman at handball tournaments in southeast New Mexico when I was younger. The guy was in his mid-60s at the time and I was in the late 20s or early 30s. Even though lots of us that played him a lot knew how old he was, someone new would look at the old coot dressed in gray sweats, old shoes and headband and swear he was in his late 70s.

Somehow Old Jim always managed to get to the ball and keep hitting it back. It never had too much on it but he hit it where he wanted it to go. His clothes would be soaked through halfway through the match but you still had to beat him and I didn’t do that very many times.

Pitchers in baseball can adapt and have long careers and so can golfers but football players playing into their 40s are cause to doff your hat.

I remember thinking George Blanda, who wrapped up his career with the Oakland Raiders just prior to his 49th birthday, might play forever. Kickers have longevity but quarterbacks don’t necessarily last. Blanda was both.

Baltimore Colt’s quarterback Johnny Unitas always impressed me as a wizened veteran and so did Washington Redskins pocket-passer Sonny Jurgenson. Both made it into their 40s. Brett Favre was the last favorite I watched play into his 40s. I cringed every down I watched him play those last few seasons though.

Now it looks like one of my all-time favorite quarterbacks, Peyton Manning, is likely to be quarterbacking my Broncos in his 39th year of life. The team and infrastructure that can help make him successful in his 18th NFL season surround him.

If he comes back I’ll be cheering him on from the couch with a heating pad on my back.

Karl Terry writes for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at: [email protected]