I was jogging downcourt at the YMCA after sinking a three-pointer against the 40-something newbie when he turned to his teammate and asked, “How old is this guy?’’
I chuckled. Certainly, it was good for the ego of an almost 67-year-old basketball player, but it balanced the doubts I had carried for the past month.
I had jammed my wrist, and it was still chirping at me. I lacked some control loading up a shot. I winced trying to handle lumber for my bed-building ministry. I couldn’t lift heavy items over my truck tailgate. A fellow referee, also a registered nurse and always willing to play doctor, told me it was a deep sprain or a hairline fracture. “Get it checked out,’’ he said. I was too busy, or too stubborn.
Whether you’re stinging softballs in an over-55 league, refereeing lacrosse or basketball, pounding the pavement in road races or playing competitive tennis, we’ve all contemplated the inevitable question – “When is it time to quit?’’
“When you’re younger, you can do all this activity for hours a day, go to bed and get up and do it again,” Richard Sedillo, an orthopedic therapist told U.S. News & World Report. “You can’t do that as you get older.”
“There’s a powerful myth that getting older means getting decrepit,” said Dr. Chhanda Dutta, chief of the gerontology division with the National Institute on Aging. “It’s not true. Some people in their 70s, 80s, and 90s are out there running marathons and becoming body-builders.”
Every athlete who ever complained about an aching knee or sore back knows there is a risk in competing. But they’ll also admit they crave the rush from excelling at the sport. They realize the activity is controlling their weight, maintaining their heart and enhancing their sense of well-being.
My wrist isn’t the only signal this retiree has received to slow down:
The Star Trek hand (1979): I broke my right pinky when it got caught in the collar of a Niagara University rugby player’s jersey. Sometime in the 90s in a basketball game, I broke the adjacent ring finger. Ever since, my hand resembles Spock issuing the Vulcan salute.
Disk replacement (2017): I endured a hard stuff on a shot and my neck became progressively sore. After a month or so, it was difficult to hold my neck up to complete my computer work. I lost feeling in my left hand and couldn’t keep my left arm above my head. The fix was to replace the damaged disk with a cadaver disc at C5. No basketball or golf for 6 months.
The fractured leg (2019): I extended for a three-point attempt when a 150-pound defender nicknamed Fly stumbled and crashed into my right leg. It was diagnosed as a non-displaced fracture of the tibia. Crutches for three months, no basketball for four.
Lance Allred in stripes: The former Cleveland Cavalier played in the NBA despite an 80 percent hearing loss. The more I age, the more I appreciate him. My hearing is waning. I can’t tell you the times a coach has shouted “five out’’ to start his offense, and I have stopped play, thinking it was “time out!’’ Oops. Inadvertent whistle. Rescind the timeout.
My editor and spouse of 40 years asked me the question when I was lamenting my poor driving and ballooning golf scores.
“When will you know it’s time to quit golf?’’ she asked earnestly.
I’ll just know,’’ I replied. “I won’t have the motor skills left and it won’t be any fun any longer.’’
The same goes for those 6 a.m. basketball games. As long as we old guys can score from the perimeter, pass the ball and play decent defense, we won’t abandon the hardwood. We live for the taunting and snide remarks:
“I’ll guard the old guy.’’
“Jim, how did you get in this game? Is this a Make-A-Wish deal?’’
“If you shoot any worse, you can stick around for the over-70 pickleball game.’’
I’m still waiting to come out of retirement from Empire State Games basketball. Surely, some team out there wants a guy with a perfect record: 0-6.
Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/
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