WE OLD GUYS MAY LOSE OUR VERTICAL LEAP --- BUT OUR HORIZONTAL GAME REMAINS STRONG!

THIS YEAR'S MOST DISTURBING --- YET ODDLY ROMANTIC PHOTO

For I'm called Little Buttercup -- dear Little Buttercup,
Though I could never tell why,
But still I'm called Buttercup -- poor little Buttercup,
Sweet Little Buttercup I!

OK ---- now YOU lead!

DELAYED STRESS FROM THE ‘NAM CAUSES STEVE TO THROW HIMSELF ON THE BALL IN A BRAVE YET DELUSIONAL EFFORT TO SAVE DAMON FROM “THAT BIG ORANGE GRENADE!"

STILL HERE LOSES HEARTBREAKER IN OVERTIME. HOT CHICKEN WINGS AND BEER MAKE LIFE AGAIN WORTH LIVING.

Dealing with the loss of a close game is like the memory of Suzy Dumplingbutt, the first girl every guy has been dumped by the day after a Boone’s Farm wine-soaked night of getting sooooooooo close to paradise in the back seat of Dad’s ‘69 Oldsmobile.

On one hand there is pride in having worked hard enough and smart enough to get a hickey the size of a mantra ray, pleasingly visible on the neck, to show off to less accomplished friends.

On the other hand, there is the lifelong dull pain of seeing Suzy wiggle off to the prom with Tad Musclenutz, captain of every team known to sports.

Although STILL HERE has been handed its collective rump (which is quite a large rump) in so many games for so many years that we handle defeat fairly well ---- our exit from this year’s tournament brought back the old familiar dull pain of loss.

We played so well.

Steve, Damon, Rock and Pops played some of their best ball in many moons, but every guy also contributed along the way.

We came back from about 10 points down to take the lead in the closing seconds of regulation play ---- only to be forced into overtime at the buzzer by a three-point shot heaved up by an opposing player who was falling backwards, sideways, had his eyes closed, was farting, fainting and saying prayers of desperation which, unfortunately, were answered by the deities of basketball.

In overtime we just ran out of gas. Basketball is a cruel mistress.

All that can be said is that we played with heart --- we played with true STILL HERE old-school spirit --- and we can live the rest of our lives knowing that somewhere in her trailor park squalor, Suzy Dumplingbutt-Musclenutz, with her fat, gin-drinking husband Tad (who needs to eat Viagra like popcorn) still thinks about us late at night and knows that maybe --- just maybe --- she made the wrong choice!

STILL HERE SOARS TO A VICTORY ON THE WINGS OF THE FALCON

Falcon war cries sounded throughout the gym as Eddie "The Falcon" Smith popped a smooth three pointer in a big victory by STILL HERE, effectively keeping us in the hunt for the tournament trophy. As miserably as we played during the first game, we played like hairy chested behemoths today, easily cruising to an important win.

Coming up big were Joe Rog whose hair-trigger three-point shooting was key. Steve "Vanilla Quake" Meadows, even with a big fat fluid-filled knee was a monster down low. Pops, yelling at himself like a crazed pirate, turned in a great self-motivated performance!

POPS GETS A FRIENDLY SQUEEZE ON THE JOHNSON. AN OLD STILL HERE TRADITION FOR A JOB WELL DONE

ROCK DISCOVERS THERE IS A SHOT OTHER THAN A THREE-POINTER

In his only non-three point shot of the tournament Rock Supan intrigues the crowd by shooting the ball up through the bottom of the net instead of over the top of the rim.

OK --- out of fairness to Rock he splashed five three-pointers in the first game. Our only bright spot, God help us --- that will only encourage him!

OPPOSING PLAYER BECOMES CONFUSED AND CREDITS D-REX FOR A TOUCHTOWN

FIRST GAME IS A SQUEAKER. STILL HERE COMES WITHIN 30 POINTS OF SENDING CONTEST INTO OVERTIME!

These two photos tell it all. The pain. The agony. The blur of defeat. In the final analysis we blame the scorekeeper for shorting us one bucket which would have made it a 28-point loss --- and Paul Liesem for refusing to draw up planned plays despite our begging and pleas. Even the wives in attendance would not look at us afterwards. Our children began calling guys on the other team "Dad." Even the beer afterwards tasted like bitter vetch and sour bile. Well --- OK --- the beer tasted just fine. We bounce back fast!

PROOF OF THE PREVIOUS POST. VANILLA QUAKE PACKS HIS GYM BAG WITH A CANOE AND AN IRISH RETRIEVER

WHY OLD MEN SHOULD NEVER CRITICIZE WOMEN FOR OVER-PACKING

Here is a universal truth about old guy basketball:

More sports injuries are caused by gym bags than by actually playing the game.

Here’s why.

The older a man gets the more he is aware of everything that can kill or main him. Therefore: the older a man gets the more inclined he is to overdoing the Boy Scout’s motto: “Be prepared.”

Put in more bucolic terms: the older a man gets the more crap he lugs around with him.

For example, we of STILL HERE have repeatedly been embarrassed by causing ourselves to be mistakenly identified as team packed for making a full assault on the north face of Mount Everest.

In warm months we are prone to actually hefting around huge coolers of cold water, ice packs, sun screen and chapstick. In the winter our duffels are crammed with hot water thermos jugs, heat packs, bear fat and chapstick. During any season the inventories include aspirin, ibuprofen (if the aspirin doesn’t work), morphine drips (you can’t be too careful), splints, knee braces, nut cups, ankle wrap, finger and wrist tape, head bands, artificial hair, birth certificates, lucky socks, lucky pennies, lucky chapstick, spare nut cup, energy bars (uppers), fruit rollups (downers), the occasional copy of JUGS, August 1972 (great year, great month --- check out Trixie VaVoom), original scent Ben Gay, Old Spice, odor eater shoe inserts, complete team uniform except for everything forgotten at home in the laundry hamper, loose change for beer, cell phone, car keys, Gatorade bottle with green fur growing on the inside --- and that’s only the stuff left over from last year’s tournament.

In short: young guys come equipped to play basketball.

Old guys come equipped to survive Armageddon.

STILL HERE --- A BASKETBALL TEAM WITH AN AVERAGE AGE AND AVERAGE MIDRIFF SIZE THAT MATCH!

It’s old man basketball time again.

On March 13-14 and (hopefully) 15, STILL HERE will be on the road with its team of relics to compete in the 50-55 year-old age bracket at the 2009 Buffalo Masters Basketball Tournament.

Of interest to statisticians, the average age of our team of eleven fossils is 53. That is EXACTLY the same average size of our waistbands. We have somehow achieved a remarkable harmony with the universe.

Our average height, by the way, is 6 feet even but there is suspicion afoot that some have lied about their vertical challenges. A quick glance at the squad suggests that we have recruited at least a few leprechauns.

The 2009 STILL HERE (BARELY HERE) TEAM consists of:

Damon “D-Rex” Skinner
Bart “WIlbur” Skinner
Rick Burgess
Paul “Pops” Stallings
Joe Rog
Eddie “The Falcon” Smith
Paul Liesem
Steve “Vanilla Quake” Meadows
John “JT” Takacs
Rock “Rock” Supan
Mark Bruner

You’ll notice that we have more nicknames than a mafia family.

This year’s official tour name is:

STILL HERE --- THE FALCON TAKES FLIGHT

This is in honor of Eddie “The Falcon” Smith’s efforts in 2008 when he played on despite having lost the ability to see in color. That was shortly after he also had lost complete sensation in one half of his butt. It is only fitting that his ability to rise again and take flight be recognized by his teammates.

We are very pleased to have Joe Rog and Paul Liesem join us this year. Both are smart, reliable basketball players. At least that’s what they tell us. Joe is a veteran of STILL HERE’s Iceland tournament and a vicious three point shooter. Paul is a veteran of some very productive STILL HERE beer drinking sessions and has a great mid-range shot.

The most uproariously funny suggestion so far, in fact, comes from Paul Liesem who, in all sincerity, suggested that we develop a few offensive plays for the tournament. Poor guy. STILL HERE hasn’t run a preplanned play since 2004 when Damon set a pick during the third quarter, then wheeled left to the concession stand for a hot dog and Pepsi. THAT was a preplanned play!