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.
I have every confidence that the two of your could form and then dominate the “40+ National Poison Association” until such time as you admitted other members. He who defines the rules wins the game.
When you eventually lost your NPA Champion Titles, you could then move on to Calvinball.
P.S.: Imagine how you could rule that 70+ B-ball league if you each had 90 lbs. more muscle and 10 lbs. more bone.
If liver calcification counts, we’re working on the 10 pounds of bone. The other 90 pounds probably won’t be muscle, though.
90 pounds of solid Beer Muscle! Look out, scrawny! Backfire comin’ through!
I’ve seen some ancient ex-gymrats that can really drive a basket. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t go into a 70+ league with too big a head.
Yeah, but how well would they drive to the basket with a broken hip?