News from the Past in Memory of Harry A. Sturges

By Dick Brooks

For Capital Region Independent Media

I could have been in the Olympics if I’d wanted to be. The amazing thing to me is how many of my male friends could have joined me. 

There is an Olympian hidden inside most males. Men like competition; not that women don’t, it’s just they are better at it than us and don’t beat their chests and roar about it as males tend to do. 

It all goes back to that old hunter-gatherer thing. Ogg brought home a lizard that he had bashed, Grunk saw the admiring looks of the female members of the tribe and immediately set forth to bash a bigger and better lizard faster than Ogg did and sports were born. Poog, who was neither as big or strong as Ogg or Grunk and whose mate didn’t like lizard anyway, filled a coconut shell with fermented berry juice and sat back to watch the competition and the sports fan was born. 

The Poogs of the world are still going strong. They are the wise advice givers. They always know just what the Oggs and Grunks need to do to improve their game. True, there just isn’t as much lizard bashing going on as there was in the past but most of the moves involved in reptile smacking are still around. 

A lot of major sports involve a club of some kind or the kicking, jumping, running skills that would have been familiar to the early hunter-gatherers. Much of the equipment needed to participate remains recognizable also — clubs, spears, round hard objects and, of course, containers of fermented juice.

The hunter-gatherer of the past still surfaces in modern man. I’m a good swimmer — that could be me streaking through the pool to victory. A few years of practice and I’ll bet I’d be good enough to make the team. Soccer — I played that in college, bet I could still do it. I studied coaching in college and had to pass proficiencies in all the track and field events, and even at my advancing age, I’ll bet I could still throw a javelin or shoot the shot putt a mile. 

The shot putt, perfect! Shot putters are big people so the extra weight I’ve so gracefully added since my actively competitive years shouldn’t matter much. I tried a few warm-up spins — I could spin pretty fast, round objects usually do — but the spinning made my tummy do some weird things, I kept falling down and lying flat while my eyes and brain kept spinning. As I lay on my back watching the clouds spin, the shot putt rolled from my hand for a final distance of 18 inches. Not bad — I still got it! A few more practices and I should be ready in case the U.S. Track and Field coach should need me and put in a call asking me to report.

I do realize that the chances that that call will come are pretty slim, but it could happen. After all, I do know just how it should be done, having studied Olympic competition for years. In fact, I have to go watch reruns on ESPN now. I’ll just run to the fridge for the traditional container of adult beverage and get the phone to set on the table next to my recliner. 

You never know when the phone call will come and I want to be ready!

Thought for the week — “You know you’re getting old when you stoop to tie your shoelaces and wonder what else you could do while you’re down there.” ~ George Burns

Until next week, may you and yours be happy and well.

Reach columnist Dick Brooks at whittle12124@yahoo.com.