Two stories to share tonight, both of which tend to do with my impending old age. The first is that I lost a button on my lucky shirt this evening. In my life, that reaches the level of tragedy. It would be one thing if it happened because I was involved in some high energy activity but I was just sitting down. So it leads me to believe that buttons are flying off of clothing because I am just continuing to gain weight.
Yeah, I’m not fat or anything but I am overweight. I’m not kidding that Jeff Conaway on Celebrity Fit Club actually has the same height and weight that I do, which really puts some fear in your heart when your body type would qualify for a weight loss show. Actually, for those watching the show, any comparisons to Jeff Conaway are scary. He appeared on the last episode drugged out of his mind and at one point yelling at everyone, “I was on Taxi, damnit.” That is probably one of the saddest statements of all time. Think about it. When you point to a sitcom from twenty five years ago to justify your existence something is wrong. Danny DeVito wouldn’t do that. Neither would Judd Hirsch or Marilu Henner. Christopher Lloyd would probably mutter something about Back to the Future. Hell, not even Tony Danza would reference Taxi and let’s face it, it’s not like he has much to hang his hat on. But it is an incredible example of self destruction and reaching the end of your rope on national television.
(More on point, I now have to deal with the fact that my lucky shirt is missing a button. I could sew another button on but that would require a) a button and b) the ability to sew. Or I could find the perfect girl who would fall in love with me and have the ability to sew. But that’s not going to happen without my lucky shirt. This is what they call in the literary world a Catch 22.)
Here is the other story. While watching the Duke-Maryland game (with Duke taking Maryland back behind the woodshed and making the world right again) they had a sideline interview with Brian Davis and Christian Laettner. The latter being one of maybe three people in my life who I would consider my idol. Of the top ten moments in my life Christian was in three of them (the shots to be Connecticut and Kentucky and the free throws over UNLV). I have vocally argued that he should be considered the greatest college basketball player of all time. When he was wearing the Duke uniform he was unstoppable. So they are showing him on the sideline and my first thought was, “Wow, Christian has a lot of gray hair.”
Yes, even my idols are getting old. The guys who were a few years older than me are no longer the best athletes in the world. They are now the grizzled veterans. It really makes me start to wonder if I can no longer be considered young. Am I now that slightly graying adult? Am I no longer supposed to spend my free time battling nineteen year olds for prime real estate in front of a stage? Am I the guy in the college bar that everyone looks at and wonders, “What is he doing here?” That said, the first thought that comes to mind when I think about this is, “Why the hell would I care?”
No comments:
Post a Comment