The Typical Male Athlete

The typical male, as he ages, fancies that he still possesses vestiges of his former self, though-be-it scraps of athleticism that dangle from his pale and balding pate like moth-eaten carpet remnants.  He is certain that, if given the perfect combination of conditions, he could still shoot par.  And as long as he can swing anything around the house (weed-whacker, shrub clippers, etc.) he believes that he could still wield a major league bat and could hit a curve ball.

Women, on the other hand, realize that their prime athletic abilities vanished during the months of pregnancy and they are now free to laugh at the men whose waistlines are larger than their egos.  This is the new feminine sport, and they enjoy it immensely.

Naturally, as older men balloon to Sumo proportions, they gravitate to those athletic events that seem suited to XXXL sizes:  Olympic weight lifting, shot putting, hammer throwing, rolling down a green hillside littered with poison ivy.  They believe there is an event, a sport, that they can still play with some efficiency and ease.  Age is no barrier.  Or they could coach and yell at younger men, setting themselves up as experts in their chosen fields, instructing the able-bodied and buoyed up under the delusion that they are actually impacting the game on the field by screaming at the referees and making shrewd substitutions.

The typical male athlete, as he ages, enjoys the preparation for the athletic event much more than the athletic event itself.  This preparation comes complete with piles of nacho chips (carb loading phase), sheets of BBQ ribs (protein synthesis), and generous scoops of ice cream (cool down phase).  The older male actually believes this regimen is working to his advantage, making him stronger, more agile, deft with a fork.  Even while he's sitting on his ass, he's in training.

Eventually the older male retires from athletic competition in same manner as Brent Farve or Michael Jordan--after several failed attempts and multiple trips to the pharmacy for pain killers.  This usually occurs when the male is in his eighties and is on life support.

Following his retirement, he hopes for a trophy.  He purchases one from Walmart and sits it on the mantle.  His wife dusts it twice and year and eventually tosses it in the trash.

And that's when he says, "Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth."