Hey, This Turning 40 Ain't So Bad After All

10:43—Forget to do crunches. Forget to shave. Take one-hour shower.

11:53—Put on fleece sweatpants, favorite ratty Valparaiso sweatshirt and prized BUFFALO BILLS WORLD CHAMPS hat.

11:55—Dealership delivers silver Porsche Boxster. Custom set of Callaways in trunk. Vertebra-snappingly gorgeous redheaded caddie riding shotgun.

12:01 p.m.—World Cup canceled.

12:20—Exhilarating drive to airport on state highway patrols' National Give a Warning Day.

12:30—Board private Gulfstream V for flight to Cypress Point Golf Club. Met on board by commissioners of major pro leagues.

1:05—Satisfying accords reached onboard: Patrick Ewing to be called for traveling every time he touches ball, clich�d dumping of Gatorade on NFL coaches outlawed, bicuspid-bashing goons banned from NHL but made mandatory at major league baseball owners' meetings. Commissioners praise wisdom, parachute out.

1:37—Track canceled.

1:38—Field canceled.

1:55—Greeted at airport by Cypress Point chairman, who compliments me on adhering to club's new no-collared-shirt rule.