No finish line

It’s often hard for the non-athlete to understand why some guys just don’t quit, why retirement just seems such an alien concept. Why is it so hard to let go, to give up sports? How many times have we seen basketball players, boxers, runners, wrestlers and fighters keep coming out of retirement and trying to compete again? It appears so awkward, undignified, unbecoming.

How many of the world’s greatest have suffered this so-called indignity? Michael Jordan retired thrice, the last time after two mediocre seasons with the Washington Wizards (which some fans even refuse to acknowledge). Magic Johnson tried coming back as a slower, heavier ‘point forward’, a new term which tried to cover up his lost abilities. Muhammad Ali, the most recognized personality on earth in the second half of the 20th century, kept fighting until he was over 40. George Foreman, who won an Olympic gold medal in boxing eight years after Ali, kept fighting even longer. Carl Lewis went from being the star of the US Olympic track team to an alternate in a relay event to win what was then a record-tying ninth gold medal. Even the respected Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who was at the top of the NBA for 20 years, played a silly one-on-one match against Julius Erving in a Las Vegas casino after retirement.

Some pros realize their deterioration, and decide to try another sport. Wilt Chamberlain’s career took an odd trajectory. The Big Dipper started as a forward with the Harlem Globetrotters, became the league’s most feared offensive weapon, then ended as an international volleyball player and star player, coach and manager of the Bucketeers, a competitor of the Globies. Chamberlain, who set scoring records in every massive NBA arena, spent his last playing days barnstorming on aircraft carriers, in smaller gyms and other unusual locations.

The controversial Lance Armstrong, whose formidable (but artificially aided) endurance earned him seven Tour de France titles, had a miserable attempt at running marathons. No wonder he was so inept at it. NFL greats like Refrigerator Perry, Dennis Rodman, Karl Malone and others even got into the ring in the former WWF. And how many pioneers of the UFC have simply been unable to stay away from the octagon? Some even join obscure strongman competitions.

In the Philippines, how many alumni leagues, seniors events, and veteran categories have sprouted in many sports in recent years? There is a growing market for older athletes, even in such extreme sports as triathlon. You can credit part of it to better training and nutrition, new philosophies in fitness, and improved preparation. But the fact of the matter is that people want to stay in the game longer. And later in life, they can afford the shoes, equipment, gym membership, and supplements to stay fit longer.

There are several reasons for this phenomenon. Firstly, many athletes have the illusion that they are still at the top of their game even when the facts show otherwise. Still, others feel they can intimidate younger rivals, yet others need the money. A few want to prove something to themselves or someone else. But the overriding psychological reason is that they need the sport more than it needs them.

The disproportionate investment in time, effort and pain to reach that level of greatness often imprints a desire to get a return on the investment. It’s not a switch that’s easy to turn off. For a champion to simply say ‘That’s it,’ is uncommon. The more frightening question to follow is ‘What now?’ When you’re 19 or 20, being an athlete feels like it will last forever, you’re strong, quick, you never get tired, and you heal faster. Ten, 15 years later, you’re worn out, broken down, tired and outmatched. You wake up stiff and hurting. But you still need the rush. Or maybe you want to stick around for your kids, it can be unhealthy or even hazardous.

For some athletes, the sudden drop in earnings is something they aren’t prepared for. They never saved for it. They’ve been thinking – or hoping against hope – that they can keep playing indefinitely. They fear that they are good for nothing else but running around in short pants and tossing a ball in a hoop, or knocking some other guy’s head off. The vast expanse of nothingness ahead after playing would be an unbearable purgatory.

But when you start getting injured, have trouble getting up from bed still aching from the day before, and otherwise are a little slower and more earthbound, it’s time to face the facts. Perhaps your superhero days are over. Methuselah lived 900 years, but he wasn’t taking a pounding every day. You can’t stop Father Time.

Believe me, I’ve tried.