Sports

Sand lot or pick up games were a big part of my life in my "formative years". You know, the manhole cover is home and Wayne Parkman's yard is foul territory (In more ways than one). Often shooting baskets late into the evening, I would often sink the winning shot to the delight of the thousands in my driveway. Each of us could be Qb, receiver, running back and linebacker in the same game (and often on the same play).
Imagination isn't all bad.

Today it's 40,000 people in need of exercise watching 22 guys in need of a break.

Oh, the shoulder is not what it used to be. Organized sports often leave more on the bench, than are given the chance to play. A sort of forced couch potato. I suppose I could play to those thousands once again. But carrying that extra person around my middle makes jump shots a thing of the past. So, I sit here and reminise.
The mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Playing the game was always the goal. Winning is cool. But it was always the chance that we could be victorious that kept me going. Play the game. Anything can happen. The way the ball bounces. Lapse in execution. "What a catch!" No harm, no foul. There should always be a victor. But if you play, you win.
Careful here. I might re-injure that shoulder.
No pain, no life.