Old Men, Old Dogs and Baseball

Old Men, Old Dogs and Baseball

 When I look back on some of the stuff I wrote years ago, I wonder what was going through my head. Noun, verb, noun, verb. The younger version of me was game for just about anything fishing related. It didn’t matter if it was trolling for salmon, whisping a fly around for trout in a forgotten stream or throwing topwaters for bass. Whatever plan had been drawn up for the day, I was down to go give it a shot. And, for the most part, I liked all of it - except ice fishing.

It’s not like I didn’t try to enjoy it. I made a concerted effort to have the right equipment, the right bait and to go at the right times. I came to a realization after about 40 or so attempts that I just didn’t like being cold. I didn’t like it so much that I either sold or gave away all of my ice fishing stuff. All of it. What I did come to realize was that I reallyenjoyed bass fishing. I liked it enough to buy a boat and a truck to pull it. I liked it enough to join a bass club and take part in some friendly competition. I enjoyed it so much that I even structured my work schedule to allow me to do it more.

Here’s the thing, and anyone who knows me will confirm this – I come with a boat, a dog and a mistrust of people who don’t like boats and dogs. I definitely distrust people who don’t like dogs. I don’t expect everyone to enjoy bass fishing or boat payments. Everyone who fishes is not going to like bass fishing as much as I do. I can accept that. But, don’t put your dislikes on me. I can’t stand avocado, raw onions or the widespread acceptance of the designated hitter rule. The National League literally dropped the ball on that one. I don’t like the designated hitter rule for the American League either. Way back in the day, pitchers (even Babe Ruth) had to pick up a bat and go face the music. Nobody wore helmets either, but I digress. If you were a pitcher in 1933 and buzzed a guy in a little too high and tight, you were going to get one of your own on the other end. Guys didn’t charge the mound. They took their medicine in the form of a bruise.

What I did realize over the years was what I really enjoyed. That which I didn’t like, I let pass on by. There comes a time in a person’s life when they start to realize that each day is getting shorter and doing things that they don’t enjoy really doesn’t have to happen.

Disclaimer: Yes, you still have to be a good person. You still have to pay your bills, mow the lawn and go grocery shopping. I would categorize those as needs. There is however a lot of stuff I don’t want. I don’t want to go for hikes, try avocado (for the umpteenth time), eat raw onionsor ride on a tandem bicycle. I’m tired of going to theme parks, zoos and doing touristy things. I did them, they were ok. When you reach a certain age though, you become more concerned about filling up your days with what youlike to do.

“I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore.” (Not really)

There’s something about being in the boat though. There’s something about having an old dog that always wants to go and do what you’re doing. Sometimes I put a baseball game on and listen to it as the long summer days wane. I remember every sports related injury I ever had – sprained ankles, bruises, pulled muscles each time my feet hit the floor in the morning. I’m not tired. I’m just more aware of them. The mindfulness of being in those moments matter.Forty years ago heaven was a playground – a place where I could shoot endless hoops or have a game of catch in the backyard with Dad.

I talk to the dog all the time. She’s a good listener.

“Just a few more casts and then we’ll head back to the ramp. Maybe we’ll get the boat out again tomorrow.”

“Who wouldn’t want another day like that? I had a great time. You showed me a fish, I went swimming, and I took a most excellent nap.” She responds. 

“Probably someone who doesn’t like dogs or baseball.”