For six months, the banality of being a not-playing soccer player on a lower-division club ate away at Manny. He could go out with his roommates to bars and say he was a Gales player, but no pictures of him in a Gales uniform appeared on TV or the newspaper. The local press simply didn’t care. Nobody was a fan.
For 26 years, I played in the same Sunday afternoon, full-court basketball game with the same guys. Then my Medicare card arrived in the mail and I switched to doubles tennis. Occasionally, at the gym some 20-somethings will see me shooting and ask me to join them. I figure since I have to die one day, might as well be while trying to hit the open man.
I was on the floor during Game 7 of the World Series mumbling to myself, tears running down my face pretty much from the 6th inning when David Ross hit that homer and onward until about three in the morning before finally passing out. As a lifelong Cubs fan, that was easily one of the most intense, insane, and ultimately wonderful experiences I’ve ever gone through.