Everything I Own

I have, on occasions, written semi-jokingly about the impending arrival of old age, specifically mine. Today, I am not joking. I feel like I am falling to bits.

Yesterday, I made my second cricketing appearance of the season, which also happened to be my second cricketing appearance in the last 18 years. I batted, albeit briefly, I bowled three overs and I fielded, almost entirely at fine leg. The ground was very hard and today my back, my left hip and both legs are as stiff as the proverbial board. That’s an improvement on last night when I could barely walk.

Having broken my finger last time out, I taped up my fingers and it worked. My fingers are probably the only parts of my body that do not hurt today.

Cricket is not an all action sport which, at my age, is just as well. I cannot hope to compete with the younger lads in our team and I don’t try to. When fielding, it’s a matter of bending down to collect the ball and throwing it back to the wicket keeper. Actually, I can’t even throw properly anymore because my shoulder won’t allow it. I can’t run fast anymore. Today I can’t even walk properly.

This physical decline has come as no real surprise to me. I first noticed it when my children were in primary school and I finished last in the dad’s sprint and not just any last: very last. I have always had a highly competitive edge, which is not backed up with any particular sporting talent, but there comes a time when that edge has to be put to bed. If you can’t compete, there’s no point in trying to retain that edge. This is why I don’t play all that many sports these days, including running. I don’t want to be among the “best in your age group”.

For all that, my exertions yesterday were enjoyable, at least for the most part. My team, the Stoke Gifford Second XI, won our first game in something like three years and of course the real stars were the kids, who took the bulk of the wickets and scored the most runs. As it should be. The kids are probably not feeling like I am today, which is, to put not too fine a point on it, completely knackered.

Exercise, we are told constantly, is good for you. On a morning like this, I find that very surprising. I am aching too much to sleep and I dread the thought of someone knocking on the front door so I have to stand up to answer it.

Still, we won and I played my (minuscule) part in the victory. However, in the words of David Gates, “I would give everything I own, give up my life, my heart, my home” to feel slightly less rickety this morning.