The rest of us showed up in our 80's haircuts and our leather hightops. Pete would be there in his crewcut and what resembled the Chuck Taylor canvas Converse sneakers (when they were not fashionable). He was not real tall but he was a real solid guy with a lot of energy. I don't know how often he was picked first to play, but he wasn't picked last by those who knew him. He certainly got picked before I did. He was well respected by all of us because he never slowed down, was always passing, and he would score on you with ease if you let your guard down. The one thing you never got from him was a break. He played you hard. The only thing you could forget, if you wanted to beat him, was his age. Forget that. He did. He played like he was 20. If you were going to have a chance, check your ego and his age at the door.
The group that played in the pick-up games was pretty much the same group all the time. We all knew each other. Every so often though, some guy no one knew would show up. Usually it was a pretty good player who was just stopping in to sharpen up. One thing though never failed. They always thought they had one up on Pete. It was the age thing. Their ego's couldn't take it. I even saw one guy shove Pete in anger once and Pete didn't give an inch. He didn't say anything, but he stayed right in the guy's face. I can remember going home and telling my dad and he snickered and said, "they better not mess with him, he works out all the time and is in better shape than most of them, and if they think he's a pushover, they will be surprised."
And my dad was right.
So there I found myself today, the 4th of July, playing a game of something called Speedball with the 16-24 year old set of nieces and nephews. My son Nick, aged 13, also played. Most of these kids were high school and college aged. They all laughed and asked me if I wanted to play. I thought about it for a short second and smiled to myself, "sure, I'm in this one." I will confess, I needed Speedball explained to me, so I got a briefing on the rules. They picked Captains and began to choose sides. The college aged boys were picked first, then the 16 year old boys. It was about this time my nephew Matt was saying, "take Dick!" Nothing. Then the college girls were picked. Right before the youngest kids were chosen, I was picked. Matt was laughing and mumbling, "..a sleeper pick in 8th round!"
Now, I run probably 15-20 miles a week depending on my time availability. I am 85 pounds lighter than the last time I did anything physical with these kids...and that was about two years ago. I will tell you this, I was ready to go.
I am not going to go through a play by play here. The game is played like a combination of soccer, and lacrosse only you carry and pass the ball with your hands, not a stick. The nets are tiny because you can throw the ball in to score. The game was split into two halfs, each consisting of about 45 minutes of straight running. The ball was being passed and kicked. I played hard, scored more than my share of goals, and I made all those kids forget my age. I was jumping, throwing, diving, and at the end, I scored the winning goal. I know the kids were kind of amazed and surprised at my ability to play well and beat the big kids. More surprised were my relatives who are my own age, and who know really how much it takes to be able to go at that physical pace for that long. One guy even said, "well...I guess YOU'RE in real good shape these days!"
The coolest thing of all though, was that my 13 year old son played a real tough game against kids a lot bigger and a lot older than him. I saw him take a kicked soccer ball in the face from point blank range and get up, and later, he took a hard body hit from a college age guy while passing me the ball for a goal. He showed a lot of guts and it was a great thrill and proud moment to be able to play with him. I felt like I was watching him mature in front of me. I was playing two levels down and he was playing two levels up.
Today wasn't about showing everyone else that I could do it. It was about transcending age for a moment. It was about showing myself that I could do it. I have worked real hard to get back into the condition I am currently in. I want to enjoy being able to run, play and compete, at any age. I always enjoyed it in the past and I don't like thinking that Father Time can take that from me. When we were done, everyone had sweat through their clothes. There were bumps and bruises, sore muscles and just plain exhaustion. My nephew Chris had brought a huge 20-something friend to the family party, he was also named Nick, like my son. He looked at me and said, "good game out there man, I haven't worked out this hard since college, I feel old." I said, "old? I'm 48 buddy, that's old." He laughed and said, "yeah, that IS old!"
Not today though. Not today. Today I was "Pete Breslin."
Next: Dealing with reality
