My Burt is 17 at heart. Normally people look at him and can’t believe it when he tells them his age. “You look so much younger!” they exclaim.
His 44 year old knees and wrist and back said otherwise this weekend.
Burt is an athlete, always has been and always will be. He prides himself on the facts that he can run in a major relay, take part in a triathlon and play softball with a bunch of guys he has known for years.
He relives the glory years as he steals second or turns a base hit into a double. His buddies are in awe of his speed and agility and make him the lead off batter. Of course, you must take into consideration that most of them are big Hawaiians, most are drunk and most of them strap on at least 2 different braces. The only stretching that happens is when they reach for a beer in the cooler.
His overly concerned, personal RN grimaces with every slide, cringes with every dive and comes out of her skin when there is a collision.
Saturday and Sunday Team “Ho Ufakahs” (Pigeon Hawaiian) were in tournament heaven. Six games total, 12 cases of Coors, 2 bar-b-ques, and 1 ejection for arguing with the ump.
Isn’t it time to hang it up when ice, ibuprofen and a beer become your best friends? Or am I being a nag?