A Final Lap

Cav & Me (1984)

"Everything dies baby, that's a fact
And maybe everything that dies someday comes back" 
 - Bruce Springsteen (Atlantic City)

      At the end of his High Hopes concert tour last year, 65-year old Bruce Springsteen told an audience in Kilkenny, Ireland:

“The older you get, the more it means.”

     
     When Justin invited me to rejoin the Westfield Cranx lacrosse team after playing elsewhere the previous two years, the thought of returning had to that point never entered my mind. But after he put it out there, nothing made more sense to me.

     We started this thing 31 years ago. Cav, Flynner and I wanted to continue playing after our respective spring college seasons had ended. So what started as a six-team league of unmatched uniform jerseys and bucket helmets, gradually became an elite 14-team league of perennial talent and competition (and 21^st century fashion flash and equipment). Cav and Flynner still debate today as to which one of them came up with our famously named “Cranx”.  But what isn't in any doubt is that what we started in 1984 was a franchise that has long outlasted, outclassed, and outmatched any program that has tried to overtake it.  The only remaining team from that inaugural year continuously has been without equal when it comes to success and tradition.

     And here I am, all this time later, still playing. Turning 50 this year, seems like a good, symbolic time to hang up the cleats. (Many would say it's about 20 years late). No Brett Favre here; no maybe's.  After August 4, that's it. No more trying to compete against guys half my age. No more trying to remember if I was ever as good as these other guys once upon a time long ago. No more recuperating from nagging injuries that seem to multiply like Gremlins after each game. Enough of the mega-doses of Advil and IcyHot, and knee braces and athletic wrap.

with Cav & Flynner (2014)

     Fortunately for our team, and lucky for me, we're playing in that August 4 championship game. As successful as our wins total has been over three decades, Team Cranx has never won a league championship.  Not since it became formalized a decade into its inception, anyway.  A number of semifinal bids, a runner-up place last season, but never a champagne-uncorking finish. If we come away with a win this time, saying it will be awesome with a capital “A” will be an understatement. The younger guys on the team like Pray and Scarfo, those guys won't get it. It'll just be a lowercase “A” for those guys who haven't experienced falling short year after year.

     But for the veteran players, I'm sure it will mean a lot more: Mike The Pic, Richie Laxadaisical, Matty Face-Off, Justin Superstar, JT, Jimmy Redneck, and one of my all-time favorite teammates, Benny Mac. These guys will know the thrill of a Malcolm Butler Super Bowl interception, and the equally redemptive relief Tom Brady felt watching it.  For me, I may even crack a smile and share some laughs and beers with the guys afterward. That will shock the hell out of Jimmy Redneck, who claims that I'm angry 100% of the time, never smile, and am so mean I'd take a dead fly away from a blind spider.

     John Elway won the Super Bowl with the Denver Broncos playing in his last game. He also won the game's MVP award that day. Chances are that type of performance won't be the case with me. These playing days, I'm the player most likely to correct the grammar of my teammates, to excoriate their excessive profanity, and to withstand the barrage of old-age jokes thrown my way. I'm not the guy that's gonna' score a bunch of goals or have much of an impact on the game, especially from my prominent position on the sidelines. Nope, an Elway-like performance seems quite implausible. A Ted Williams type last game would be something nice though.

Ted Williams' final lap

     In the last game of Williams' 21-year Red Sox career, Boston played Baltimore at Fenway. On his final at bat in the 8^th inning and the Sox down 4-2, Williams slammed a home run deep into the center field bleachers. It brought the Sox one run closer at 4-3. Boston ended up scoring twice in the 9^th to win the game 5-4. Williams wasn't the hero. His home run wasn't a walk-off. It wasn't the final play, it didn't “win” the game. But it did contribute to that win. And what a great way to finish a career.

     A contribution. A goal, maybe an assist or two, a key ground ball, not making a turnover. Here's hoping my last game can end up having something else in common with Williams, besides the same #9 that we've both forever worn. And if so, that will be the ultimate ending. Something more rewarding than the personal achievements and scoring totals of all the earlier years, as it was for Williams.
     Because it most certainly is true what the minister of Rock & Roll says about doing something you've loved doing for most of your life: “The older you get, the more it means”.