Navigating the Middle Ages

Traversing on the high side of forty, although just a number, can lead to a barren wasteland of reflection. Society pushes you to look in the rearview mirror at an already established timeline. Crushed in by the responsibility of choices made and paths taken there aren't many gold stars anymore. All but the most emphatic victory is downplayed and the odd slip up is glaring under the microscope of expectation that comes with maturity. However, against all the odds, there are occasions where we can still slide between the cracks of the relentless march towards retirement.

For me, looking and acting younger than my birth certificate, it’s a double edged sword. I’ve never really cared too much about it because in reality you just have to play the hand you’re dealt and there are far bigger issues out there anyway. Still, knowing this, I was always hesitant to step into the over 40's cricket scene. Although I’m a fairly average player in the cricket landscape, I don’t think there’s been a match where someone hasn’t question my age at the game. However, it is funny how quickly those far from novel remarks die down after I get pumped for a few boundaries.

Anyway, I’m glad I’ve learnt to let the “witty” banter flow off my back because it’s allowed me to find a great space that I could have easily passed over. During the last few years of slotting into the “old boys” community, a whole world of connections has opened up. Over the past weekend, a journey that started on the small patch of earth at Urunga Upper came full circle. Finally pulling on the maroon, alongside a catalogue of my (now home) club's veterans for the first time, felt like the completion of a lifelong journey.

Heading to the Lismore Master’s Games and sharing the field with a bunch of legends from the Bar was just the potion for any middle aged self doubt. Ratcheting up the level of nostalgia and euphoria, in our first hit out, we played against two of my old club mates from Urunga. To make things even better, all three of us had a decent game and a great catch up long into the evening. Sometimes the skater in me hates the win lose nature of team sport but in this case it was well and truly balanced out by the comradery.

Taking things to another level and completing the story, was coming up against the captain of the Dorrigo Dinosaurs himself. Doc Ellis, one of the most feared fast bowlers on the East Coast through the '90s was once again on the park. Although now pushing sixty and bowling offies, playing against this bloke for the first time in almost three decades was special. As a kid, over my forming years, I’d watched this guy destroy batting lineups for fun every weekend and also had the displeasure of later facing him as a teenager. Getting out to him once again was no surprise but it was great to hear a few more yarns about the times he and my old man spent out on the paddock with Urunga back in the day.

As the nostalgia soon faded under a cascade of beverages and sleepless nights, we went on to end the tournament in second place. At the conclusion of proceedings, reflecting while heading back down the Bruxner Highway, the purpose of it all suddenly struck me. Coming off late on day two, after once again shelling a full bunger straight down midwicket’s throat, I was filled with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. Heading to the pavilion (a shady tree next to a locked building), as I lobbed my gear aside, I noticed the familiar sight of another used syringe recklessly discarded on the footpath.

I realised that, just like the unknown individual who chases the rush in the park under the cover of darkness, I too live for the rush. Even though it's the ball I chase around an oval of grass in the daylight, I can’t stop coming back for more. As the glory days recede, the sense of purpose and connection is the drug you begin to crave. Even though all our motivations might be different, ultimately it’s the mateship that quells the self doubt. So as you enter the inevitable desert that comes with the sliding sands of the hourglass, seek an oasis that might be over the horizon and just out of sight. You never know what you might find as you push over the next hill.