Kyle’s high school lacrosse team is in the middle of fall ball – a six-week lacrosse league created to hone the athlete’s skills. Being an assistant coach, I have attended most of the games, and we’re currently 3-1. Kyle, for his part, is playing well, if you disregard last Sunday’s game when he got thrown out for unsportsmanlike conduct.
It was his first ever major penalty.
Since fall ball began, we have also had informal evening workouts at school. Last night, I suited up with the other two coaches to join in the team’s scrimmage. It went as well as you would expect.
This was the first time since 2010 I played in an actual game, and while I played lacrosse for Saint Joseph’s University – Jesus, 25 years ago – you would never know it. I was slow, I couldn’t read the defense or the offense, and while my catching was pretty good, my shots were godawful. By the end of the night, I earned a lousy two assists. Kyle finished with a goal and five assists.
My ego took a giant hit last night, and forced me to accept the ugly fact I’m getting old. I am now 47, but for some reason, that age doesn’t register with me. Maybe because I am still pretty active, or maybe because I am suffering from Alzheimer’s. I could have used the excuse I was playing kids thirty years younger than me, but I was brutally honest; I told my players I sucked last night.
I still plan on playing during these indoor workouts because I love playing lacrosse, but not being able to play the way I did in college is a depressing proposition.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I am headed for whiskey. And yes, I am well aware it is 10am.