"Hu.....ugh!

CAPTION: "Okay all you Anonymous Athletes, listen up! READ THE SIGN!"

I hope I get some feedback from some 40 something men on this story. I want to know if the subculture still exists. Unless you were a part of what was and/or is an accidental secret society, you'll think I really got carried away with this one.

Not so. There will always be some exaggeration as long as I get to call this fiction. But all my hyperbole has roots, and there is a piece of every description here that rings true. I'll be curious to know if  the "Athlete's Anonymous" bell is still ringing. Here we go with:

      ATHLETE’S ANONYMOUS

                                  Part Three       

 

If you want to watch a baseball player, where do you go? You go to a baseball game. It’s the same with lacrosse, or rugby, or swimming. But when the “Anonymous Athlete” plays, it gets a little more complicated. So here are some tips:

 

Watch the papers (announcements on the web) for upcoming “Donkey Baseball or Basketball” games. We believe it to be incredibly macho to drag a dumb beast around the field or court whilst demonstrating that athletic skills will deteriorate with age and waning inertia.

 

We prefer the baseball games because you can get away with drinking beer in the dugout. And you can sneak behind or under the bleachers to “toss your cookies” if need be.

 

We also volunteer to play the Harlem Globetrotters and all their knockoffs when they come to town. There is always one amongst us who imagines we can beat them. We’re all in the locker room, getting ready for the tip off?

 

Magic Johnson:

“Guys this is all for fun and charity. So let’s don’t take it too seriously. We’ll let you get close a few times, but they are all here to see us win. Let’s just have some great fun out there and give them the show they paid for.”

 

Anonymous Athlete after Magic leaves the room:

 

“Right Magic! B___ S___! He’s got to be kiddin’. We are going to go out there and kick their A____(booty). That’s what we call HAVIN’ FUN.”

 

We take about twenty guys to the game. Why? Typically there are quite a few of us that get kicked off the court for punching the phony referee. Tripping the clown on his way in for a lay up is always a kick. But to tell you truth about why we need 20 guys? There aren’t four of us among the twenty who can make it up and down the court twice without collapsing.

 

We are also very big at family and company picnics. Softball is usually the first order of business at the company affair. We like to pick a diamond close to where people are eating. An alternate site will be some place where we can hit screaming line drives in the direction of some sissy Frisbee player. (This was clearly written before the days of “Ultimate Frisbee.”)

 

Our games are not very heavy on defense. That would require chasing the ball in addition to running the bases. The final score is typically something like 55 to 40, whereupon we get bored and decide to switch to volleyball.

 

We play a brand of volleyball affectionately referred to as “Jungle Ball.” That simply means the only rules to this game are the “Laws of the Jungle.” Let see if I can describe some play.

 

The server whacks the ball as high as he possibly can in the air. As the ball is descending on the opposite side of the net, every player in unison yells at the top of his lungs, “I’VE GOT IT.” There is a big scrum in the sand, dirt, or concrete, and the guy who comes up with the ball runs under the net and throws the ball at somebody on the other side. (It’s close to dodge ball, but different scoring.) Mild concussions are not rare.

 

Now you would think that would be enough for the day. But no picnic, family or company, is complete without a game of “touch” or “flag” football.

We use the words touch or flag to appease our mates and children who keep telling us:  “ Now you are just too old to do FOREARM SHIVERS and HEAD BUTTS.”

 

There is no such age as too old when it comes to “touch” football. We dig deep into memory banks to bring back THE MOMENT. In the huddle you hear the whispering ghosts:

 

“Thirty five dive right on two. (clap hands) Lets’ go.

“Wait a minute.”

“What is it this time Gursky?”

“Is the five hole guard and tackle, or tackle and end?”

“Fakeit Gursky. (new hand clap) Break!.”

 

For the next hour you can hear not only the familiar grunts and groans of the turf, but the squish of long ago shattered ankles, and knees, and shoulders. The end of the game (which by the way no one kept score of) resembles a spent and quiet battlefield. The wounded are hobbling off the turf, clinging to their loved ones en route to private ambulances.

 

There is still one other place you might spot us? We like to muscle our way into pick-up basketball games. After bouncing a few of the players around to compensate for our dwindling sense of balance, we enjoy showing off.  How? Well by getting high enough off the ground to grab the rim of the basket and hang there. Usually not taken into consideration? Weight gain! Typical results?  Broken rim, sprained or broken ankle, and separated shoulder.

 

We are really talented at injury story telling. In moments of truth, we know you're just laughing at us.

 

So that’s who we are. Like I said earlier I’m imagining each of you has run into at least one ofus during your lifetime. And here is what each and every one of you can do to help. We are dangerous, especially to ourselves.

 

Turn us in to face the charges.  Sentence us to fixing the broken window that’s been letting in flies for six months. Chain us to our chairs for recreational activity. Let us release our aggressions on chess boards, or playing gin rummy. Burn our gym shorts and sweat pants. Issue us a grey polyester uniform that will hide the bruises, and scars of our past.

 

Help us to truly become ANONYMOUS.

 

Postscript: Just as I am putting this posting and myself to bed? I pick up my copy the Rocky Mountain news. In the sports section there is a front page feature on Keith Burns, a Denver Bronco linebacker and special teams captain who called it quits last year.  Quotes attributed to Burns contain words that speak volumes to the Anonymous Athlete. I hand them to you untouched. If the soundbites fit, wear them.

 

Keith Burns on deciding to retire as a player:

 

"Your mind might tells that you can make a play, but you body probably won't let you."

 

"I left it all on the field. I won't be looking over my shoulder, looking back, trying to get a play back or something. I left it all out there. That's how I played the game."

 

On coaching instead of playing?

"And when your body is telling that you can't do it anymore, you have to put your mind to work."

 

" I sat down, and it just seemed like my body was telling me to go another way."

 

Thanks Keith, from all of us.