The Jock Smack

Usually I blog at night. When my mind is full of (often) useless information and observations. Right now it is three o clock in the afternoon. My mind is full of nothing. This should be fun. I have to go to work soon so This will probably be purdy short.
The last three days I have been outside every spare moment running up the hill in my back yard and then sliding down it on my snowboard. I wish I could take this motivation and apply it to other, more useful areas of my life. I could and I can, I just choose not to most of the time. I seriously have been having the time of my life out there being a Backyardigan. Ha ha, I don't know what that is.
My shoulder hurts. I hurt it playing ward ball last night. Ward ball is worth blogging about. Lets break it down: A bunch of (usually) older men who are holding dearly to every last bit of atheleticism they have and almost always exerting themselves beyond capacity. It usually made up of guys who played in high school but weren't quite good enough to play after that. This is the only source of competition they have left in their lives.
In almost all forms of basketball, and particularly ward ball and gym ball, there is butt slapping. Sports is the only time guys slap each others butts and it is completely normal and even, encouraged. I gotta be honest, getting a firm old man butt slap after making a good play is quite encouraging. It is how these guys tell me that they got my back, and my butt. It is how they say "good job Taylor". I don't get too many of those cause I'm not very good, but when I do get one, I relish in the glory. I don't hand many out either, I've always been more of a shoulder slap kind of guy.
After the game my Dad and brother pick the game a part in a play by play analysis. Who talked the most smack and who could back it up. There is usually mention of a foul that wasn't, and a certain player who got away with murder. It is fun, and it makes me feel accepted. My Dad could care less if I just learned a backside disaster to noseblunt stall in the back yard, but if I can hit a couple 3 pointers he will buy me ice cream.
I really hope that when I am fifty years old, I am not still talking about the "glory days". I hope that I am living in the glory days no matter how old I am. After all, the present moment is all that I will ever have and if I am ever focusing more attention on any moment other than the present, I will be in agony. The past brings feelings of shame and guilt, and the future brings feelings of fear and anxiety. Not always of course, because if I am living my life right, I feel good about the future and the past, but still, why not relish in the moment and feel good about what is actually real?
I will probably play ward ball when I am old, and I will probably talk smack and yell at kids to get back on D. But at the end of the day I will go home to a loving wife and family not wanting to trade what I have right then for what I had back then or what I might have in the future.