Why aging athletes are so dang depressing

I used to think that has-been aging athletic type guys were depressing. Then I became one and discovered I was right all along — they (we) are depressing. Aging and sports reminds me of that lyric from Leonard Cohen’s song “Tower of Song,” which goes like this: “I ache in the places where I used to play.”

So true.

Not that I ever played college football or pro sports, but I was a pretty good high school football fullback: 5’11”, 175 pounds, solid muscle, could run forever. And I smoked cigarettes while playing sports by the time I reached the eighth grade, go figure.

How bad was I at the age of 13? I skipped church confirmation class, which made the youth pastor more than a little unhappy, and I skipped my first school class that year. Got busted doing both but learned nothing from the experiences.

Of course, that’s not all that unusual — athletes who are smokers. It is today, but not back in the day.

There’s a famous shot of Joe DiMaggio in the Yankees clubhouse talking to reporters after a New York win, puffing on an unfiltered Chesterfield.

“Joe, how could you ever let Marilyn slip away?”

Monroe, of course, who still leads the list of Movie Screen goddesses.

Whether or not one considers golfers true athletes — I, for one, do — Arnold Palmer and Ben Hogan were famous smokers. Lots of photos of them standing by the side of the green puffing away. Hogan smoked until he died at the age of 84. Arnold quit. I don’t know when, but he was still playing golf almost up until he died at the age of 87.

Today, the lifestyle police would hang them out to dry.

When you’re young, though, you can abuse your body and get away with it.

During high school PE, I used to smoke a cigarette when the PE teacher was upwind on the other side of the field. One day, the class was running the 440. There was this kid I could take or leave, probably because he came from a wealthy family and drove a Jaguar. At 17, no less. An XKE convertible. To be honest, I probably wasn’t his buddy not so much because he drove a Jag, but he was pompous to boot. So, I figured, the heck with this kid. I played football, he didn’t. No way is he going to beat me in a foot race. So I took my last drag from the cig, threw it down on the grass, and raced him, with lungs made of iron, up and down the football field four times, and I won. So there. Of course, he still had the XKE waiting for him in the parking lot.

Why bring all this up? Well, for one thing, my arthritis is getting worse. I can’t run anymore, can’t play golf anymore, and to really top it off, I discovered this weekend, I can’t even do pushups anymore without my left shoulder screaming in pain. But I can still do stomach crunches. If I ever have to give those up, I think it’s time to reach for the cyanide. Come to think of it, where is that stuff? I added some white powder to my coffee this morning. Had to be a sweetener, although I am feeling a little odd.

I think the reason watching athletes get old and retire, like the fantastic, classy Derek Jeter did more than a few years back, strikes some of us as so depressing is that number one, it reminds of us our own aging process, but unlike those of us in the business world, or professional world, whether it be medicine or law, they have to leave their best years behind at a relative young age. Unless you’re Tom Brady, and there ain’t many, if any, like him. Even if the elite pros do retire as millionaires, they still have to retire at a relatively young age. What now?

Anyway, I can still play pool. If that gets to be too much, the bending over 90 degrees over the billiard table, maybe I can visit the RV parks this winter and play some shuffle board. Just pop on a name badge like all the snowbirds wear — “Hi, my name is Gregg” — and ask to play some shuffle.

By the way, my weekly pool game with my buddy Roberto is Wednesday. This is the last match for the year. I’m up one match. If he is ahead when the 2-hour timer beeps, then we have to play a best-of-three game match to see who wins the prize this year.

Good thing is, I’m still competitive, but I don’t care if I win or lose. I just enjoy playing the game. Pool, life, it’s all a game in the end.

We win some, and we lose some.