"As
for us, we walked back, but by then it was too late – getting on to supper,
getting on to the end of summer vacation, time for other things, college,
careers, settling down and raising a family. Past thirty-five the talk starts
about being over the hill, about a graying Phil Niekro in his forties still fanning
them with the knuckler as if it’s some kind of miracle, about Pete Rose still
going in headfirst at forty, beating the odds. And maybe the talk is right. One
remembers Willie Mays, forty-two years old and a Met, dropping that can-of-corn
fly in the ’73 Series, all that grace stripped away and with it the conviction,
leaving a man confused and apologetic about the boy in him. It’s sad to admit
it ends so soon, but everyone knows those are the lucky ones. Most guys are
washed up by seventeen."
Is all truth ugly? When did you wash up?
No comments:
Post a Comment