I don’t wanna grow up …

Toys ‘R’ Us said it best. “I don’t wanna grow up.”

Getting old is harder than sterling silver dipped in liquid nitrogen.  I often find myself staring into the deep gray abyss of the twilight and wondering if this is it. If life exists to simply amass a small fortune, raise a family and perish – leaving behind a legacy if you’re lucky, but more often than not, generally fading away like a solar system that’s lost it’s sun.

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Growing Up Griffey

I scanned my face in the mirror last night a little more stringently than usual.

Nothing really changed, mind you, since the day before. But those crow’s feet are becoming a bit more pronounced, that forehead’s annexed some new territory further to the north, and that waistline has a bit more wobble than it once did.

But last night. I got real old. A lot of folks my age did, too. Ken Griffey, Jr., forever the kid, got too damn old for baseball. Continue reading

The Nigerian Nightmare Will Beat Your Ass in Tecmo Bowl


Fly; meet windshield. Scissors; meet rock. Linebacker; meet Christian Okoye.

For the better part of six all-too-brief years with the Kansas City Chiefs, Christian Okoye was equal parts ballerina and bulldozer. He terrorized opposing defenses with a freakish blend of power and precision. His body moved efficiently and powerfully toward one goal – and one goal only – the end zone.
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