Well the playoff game was not a success. We gave up 35 points and the defence had only played 3 downs. 3 punt returns (2 for TD’s) and two pick 6’s and the game was over early. We did not match up physically with the other team, obviously. Hard to take when you consider how much time and energy we (and I) put in to every season. We started lifting the week of the last Superbowl. And now, we are done, tails firmly between our legs. Injuries played a part no doubt, but even if we were healthy, we would have just delayed the inevitable a week by avoiding the team we got beat by in the first round for another 7 days. They were much better.
I always feel more than a bit lost after the season ends. Coaching is my volunteering and my passion. Those boys need men like me and my coaches. We have our heads on straight when it comes to value of teamwork, discipline and striving for excellence. Its good stuff. But this time, I am feeling it more than ever as retirement looms over every waking thought I have about work. I guess that is natural for someone my age in my profession. Good pension ready to go, so, what are you willing to work for? I’m starting to think of it more as a change in career. Many people my age are doing that, and it might make it easier to contemplate. I’ll just write more. Or I’ll look for part time work as a driver, or researcher or something I haven’t even thought of yet. Help out somewhere.
New stages of life are difficult to navigate, and as I look for guidance, I get weary reading super enthusiastic articles on how 55+ is going to be a ‘time of discovery!’. I don’t know that I disagree, but please shut up, you’re ruining it.
I envy those groups of older men I see at malls and Tim’s and Starbucks. The language they are speaking could be English, Polish, Italian or Chinese. They are hanging out with their peeps and they look so comfortable doing it. I don’t know where my homeys (sic) are at right now. I mean there are some, but they are all over the country. And some still have young kids for crying out loud. Those guys in the mall do look 10 years older than I am at least, but I don’t know. Don’t think that is going to happen. Kind of wish it would. There are these, but I’m not there yet. Men’s sheds. Maybe if it had weights…
Here is some prose from The Fire, a book of short stories that is coming out soon. As you know.
On the morning of the fourth day after the first attack the sun does not come out. It is cool and misty with a stiff breeze coming from the east. Bad weather always comes from the east. Looking out across the green I see the bodies. The Bonded don’t bother with their dead or wounded for that matter. Some of the ones we haven’t filled with arrows are still moving, always towards us. We usually let them crawl into the moat and drown. Waste of ammunition to kill them. I feel sick when I see them struggle into the water.
Have a great week!