I turned 57 the other day
and with that comes questions of mortality. I'm in unchartered
territory. I mean, I've never been this old before.
The questions surface a
lot while playing the APBA baseball game, too. I've been mired in
replaying the 1991 baseball season for nearly two years now. I'm
about 40 percent finished. In the past, I would have already
completed this season, playing games at a rapid pace each night. This
time, however, things are different. I have a new life; the playing
of games is less frequent; my time is divested in other things.
But when I do roll a game
or two, I tend to think ahead. I've purchased a lot of seasons over
the years of playing this game and, as we always do, my mind wanders
to the potentials of other seasons to replay. I want to do 1961 to
see if Roger Maris can replicate his real-life 61-homer season.
There's 1972 to play — a season I really became aware of baseball
and followed it closely from start to finish. I have Black Sox' 1919
season in the wings and 1934 as well, and I'd like to replay the 1954
season with the amazing Cleveland Indians' pitching staff.
But is there time enough?
Will I live long enough to do all of them? I think it's a question
all the APBA players eventually come around and think about.
To accentuate the issue,
on my 57th birthday, I received a message on my phone from
the Arkansas Prostate Cancer Foundation. “We have your blood work.
You need to call immediately about the results,” the person said.
Talk about a Happy
Birthday message. I called immediately. Well, not exactly
immediately. I first had to run around screaming in panic and
frothing at the mouth. I had some issues late last year when I got
pretty sick and ended up in the emergency room. Later, I told my
doctor I couldn't pee worth a crap and, after apologizing for mixing
the bathroom simile, learned that was common for “men my age.”
I had reached “that
age.” The doctor did tell me that I had to monitor it, saying if
things worsened, I could have early symptoms of prostate cancer.
So, the prostate
foundation call was a bit of a shocker.
When I called back, the
person said they use a 3.0 rating as a “marker” on PSA tests,
which measures protein produced by prostate cells. “It's our
cutoff,” she said. Anything above a 3.0 is red-flagged and the
patient is notified, the association person said.
The words “cutoff” and
“prostate” didn't go together well, I thought, but I digressed.
My rating was 3.09.
Nothing to be too worried about, she said. But she advised that I “keep
an eye on it.”
So, I was okay. For now.
When I returned to rolling
games that evening, I thought about all the seasons I still have ahead of me. And,
as I play those seasons, those collections of baseball eras, players and history, the APBA company keeps producing new
seasons. It's an endless cycle.
I was a late starter with the baseball game. I was introduced to APBA with the football game in 1977 and
didn't get into the baseball replay game until 1998. There are so many
seasons and games left to play and my time, as dramatically as it
sounds, is running out.
But enough pondering.
Toronto is playing Cleveland next in my 1991 season and then Houston
is hosting Philadelphia. I will continue playing, rolling games when
I can and thinking about all the seasons I have yet to replay and
experience.
