All-Star Game

I sat with my 9 year old son watching the home run derby. Growing up in the Bay Area, I pulled for the Giants and enjoyed getting to a game with friends and family. The big left-handed slugger, Willie McCovey, would step up to the plate as I anticipated a big swing and hoped for a home run. Here it was, 30 years later, and they were honoring him for his accomplishments which I had watched and admired.

The next night was the all-star game. Before the game, they honored Willie Mays, one of the greatest players of all-time.

I remembered both men in their primes. They were strong, quick, athletic. But now, McCovey enters with crutches. Mays walks slowly, my son comments on how old he is. It was difficult to believe that these were the same men whom I had watched in my youth.

But life does that - no one can escape. Regardless of our past abilities and accomplishements, time marches on. I pulled my son closer, gave him a kiss on the head, and reminded him that I loved him. He told me that I was old.