Perhaps it comes
to all men, or perhaps just to middle-aged former athletes. I'm talking about
the Just One More Time Syndrome: Score one more touchdown, ride one more bull,
hit one more home run.
But when you're
45 and your waist measurement has just passed your expanded chest measurement,
then Just One More Times aren't that easy to find.
I live in the
little West Texas town of Mason (pop. 2,153) and because we don't have a golf
course, it has become my habit to drive over to Brady, 28 miles to the north,
to play on the course there. Another of my habits is stopping over at Bill
O'Banion's drug store each and every morning to sit around and visit.
One day he said,
"Hospital fund drive coming up."
I said, "By
all means put me down for a generous contribution."
"Had this idea that might raise a little extra money for the hospital. I
thought we'd alternate our shots and hit a golf ball from the Mason courthouse
to the hole on the 9th green of the Brady golf course. We'd get somebody to
establish par, and then we'd get folks to contribute, per stroke, as to how
many strokes we'd finish under par."
innocently, "When y'all planning on doing this?"
Bill looked at me
and said, "The date for this event is June 11. And their ain't no y'all to
it. It's we."
"We, as in
you and me."