Twenty years ago this month, I was recovering from cervical fusion. Our oldest daughter had turned 18 and was graduating from high school. Two months prior, we celebrated our twentieth wedding anniversary. My birthday wish was to return to the basketball court by the end of the 8-week recovery period. Wish granted.
Ten years ago this month, I played my last full-court pickup game of basketball. After two knee scopes, Sean, my surgeon, told me I could keep playing. “But,” he said, and it was a big BUT, you will have both knees replaced by age 60. I had one wish, to at least play one morning after turning 50. Wish granted.
Last Wednesday, I turned 60. During the summer of 2020, our youngest said, “Dad, let’s play disc golf.” When your adult daughter says, “Let’s have fun,” there is only one answer. “Let’s go!” It was not long before a sport I had stopped playing some twenty years before had become a new favorite.
I learned in January that the Norman Pro-Am Disc Golf Tournament registration was opening on February 3. I talked to Patty and told her that for my birthday, I wanted to play in the tournament. “Go for it!” she replied. Saturday and Sunday, I played in my first A-Tier disc golf tournament. Wish granted.
Rain delay.
Sunday morning, we were to tee off at 9:30 a.m. I got there early to warm up. Old bodies need extra time, they say. After 36 holes on Saturday, “they” were correct. We were standing on the tee of 17, our starting hole, when the horn blew thrice. That signaled lightning in the area. We were to seek cover and wait. I returned to the car. Put my gear away. And waited.
Soon the news was that we would begin at 10:45 a.m., 75 minutes. All that stretching and moving around to get loose would now mean little.
What to do for 75 minutes?
I did not bring along a book. Had I known, I would have. I opened my phone to read the latest news. I read an article about a young man, medically discharged from the military, who believes coffee to be the cause of his myasthenia gravis. And then I realized that my friend Jason’s church had begun their worship service, and I could catch his sermon online. (My friend Emily was preaching for me at Snow Hill.)
After his sermon ended, I wondered. Is it true that you begin to fall apart at 60? Regardless of a battle with kidney stones that required surgery and lithotripsy, cervical fusion, a couple of broken fingers from basketball, and two knee scopes, all at or after 40, I wondered if I had dodged a bullet and got my falling apart over early!
The rain lifted at about 10:45 a.m. A tournament director blew the horn twice, signaling the final round's start. We got the round in with just a sprinkle. Attrition won our division. What started with 8 in the MA60 division ended with just three of us. At least two withdrew before the tournament began. One player dropped before we started due to health reasons. Another player, Tim, was returning to play after recovering from a shoulder injury. He reinjured the shoulder in round two and bid us all good luck for round three. One player left during the second round.
Going into the final round, I knew winning was not likely. I had dug myself into a hole after the first round. Improving by three strokes each round was one consolation. Another positive was coming close to my goal. To catch the leader after round 2, I would need to shoot ten strokes better than him and eleven to beat him in the final round. Alas, I came up one shot short of tying and two of winning. Disc golfers are rated based on tournament scores. I still have not figured out the overall formula. I played above my rating for rounds two and three. I take that as solid momentum going forward.
And, I am still using both of my original equipment knees . . . at 60.
Postscript
Aside from good outdoor exercise, disc golf has afforded me the opportunity to meet people with whom I would never have crossed paths. Gene picked up the sport at 65 when he retired. His three boys bought him discs and set him on course. He is now in his 70s and is one of the most enjoyable card mates. Gavin is in his 20s and plays in the Mixed Pro Open division. Casey and I met during a Friday league in Norman last March 2022. Now living in Texas, we got to play a practice round together on Friday. We played the course we played for the last round on Sunday. That round helped. Kolt is almost 11 and played in his first junior tournament last month. Timmy has not been playing for a year yet. He declined to sign up for the Ace Pot his first time out in our Thursday league. And, as you might guess, he hit an Ace. He has ponied up ever since. Jeff, whom I have known for a long time, but have recently spent many a Saturday with working on our new course, is often part of our regular round crew. Brett plays in the Mixed Pro Open 50 division. He knows more local golfers than you may imagine. He placed third in his division on Sunday. With his winnings, I expect he will treat us to chicken fried steak at the Senior Center on Thursday.
There are so many others: Jason, Chuck, Braden, Josh, Greg, and the rest of our Thursday league regulars.
Post-Postscript
Many friendships have developed out of this new sporting hobby. They look after this old man in their group. I am grateful for them. And I do hope that through our friendship, they see the One who calls us His friend. They all hope I am a better preacher than a disc golfer.