Today John and I were out shooting hoops, neither of us having touched a basketball for two years. (OK, little white lie, there, I touched my basketball when I packed it into the storage container. But you know what I mean.)

We were both soon winded and shooting quite badly. John looked at me and said, “How old of a senior league do you think we’d have to be in to be competitive?”

We decided that we could hold our own in a 70-and-up league. At least we’d do OK if we played rough.