A friend of mine was having dinner with a group of people when my name somehow came up. I was not in attendance, otherwise who knows what might have happened.

 

          As the conversation about me carried on, my friend, whom I have known since 1965, mentioned to his companion, "Bob's not really that much of an athlete. He's a good golfer, though."

 

          When he told me about this, I laughed. But the longer I thought about it, the more I wondered whatever would possess him to say that I was not much of an athlete. Like, what is he basing this on? The only sports he has ever watched me play are golf and curling. Oh, once, when he was a member of the Regina Rams and later trying out for the Saskatchewan Roughriders, he would get me to throw him passes, or kick him punts. The passes, as I recall, had a nice touch on them while the punts were high and tight spiraled, just like you want them to be.

 

          Otherwise, he has no clue.

 

          For instance, I played minor hockey right up to Junior B, where I played defence for the Dixie BeeHives, who were a farm team of the famed junior team the Toronto Marlboros. If it wasn't for the bus rides, I might have ended up in the NHL with the Leafs. Trouble was, for me to get to practice every night, I had to ride a school bus for an hour and a half there and an hour and a half back. So, I gave up hockey. My hockey career, for his information, began on an outdoor rink at the corner of Pasqua and 7^th. There was a shack manned on occasion by the immortal Mike Kartusch.

Just so my friend knows, I was considered by my coaches to be very good at blocking shots, carrying the puck down the ice, and setting up scoring plays. I was a good skater, in case my friend cares. I also was courageous. I once took stitches on my cheekbone when I dove to block a shot and caught a skate blade on the face. By the way, in those days we walked to the rinks with our skates on. Parents did not feel it was their duty to be at every game or practice. One time, I looked up and my dad was standing there watching me. I skated over, and asked, "What's wrong?" Something had to be wrong.

 

          I also, my friend should know, was a member of the Laird Gym where Ken Goff taught boxing. I will admit I called it a career when I caught one on the nose and the bleeding would not stop. It had nothing to do with having no athletic ability. It had everything to do with having brains

 

          I also, for his information, played minor football, right into high school. I tried out for the Oakville Black Knights junior team, but gave that up when they said they wanted me to play middle linebacker. That, again, was about brains.

 

          I was in track and field, was a catcher in baseball, played badminton and basketball, a little tennis, and swam. Like, where is he getting this lack of athletic ability from?

 

          I think I finally figured it out. If my favourite sport is golf, then his is curling. He loves curling. He has won championships at curling. If he could curl every night, he would be in heaven.

 

          I have curled. Not much. And, mostly with him in fun bonspiels. He says I did it mostly for the post-game parties. He is maybe right. I love watching curling at the championship level. But, for me, I don't want to spend two or three hours in a cold rink, occasionally picking up 40 pounds of granite and throwing it down the ice, or sweeping furiously with a broom until you feel like knives are being plunged into your lower back.

 

          I still don't know why he said that. I've seen him golf, but I would never tell him, or anybody else, that he should stick to curling.

 

          I have to find out some day just why he said that. Not that it's bothering me, or anything.

 

          But when you're my age, and enough things are going wrong with your body, on a daily basis, you don't need somebody commenting on your athletic ability.