Years of Gold

Back to the Judo competition in Miami, this time the senior gentlemen. In the warmup room men in blue or white pajamas grappled in pairs, or sat on the mats, stretching. One man was upside down and rolling on his head. Traces of body odor coast the air, or was that the scent of controlled fear, all of it tempered by a supersonic A/C.

There were men with hunchbacks, with wiry comb-overs, mustaches were grey. Men with wounds, pink blemishes on bald heads. The oldies tussled and soon they were rosy cheeked. Some sported reading glasses on speckled hairless pates. Everywhere there were braces on legs and elbows, even heavy shin guards beneath the thick regulation pajama bottoms.


2 thoughts on “Years of Gold

  1. Only I can say: “Taki, you are not for six feet in the ground”! i’m not either for that, but I feel like that I’m for the other things. Today, someone tell me that I’m so young, and I said: “I’m too young for dying, but too old for everything else”. They laughed, but it’s true…

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