Life begins at...

The accolades for the retirement of Ken Griffey Jr. will continue ad-infinitum for the 2010 campaign. It was a memorable 22 year run by all accounts and yes he will be a first round Hall-of-Famer. I am reminded of the saying, 'Life begins at 40'. I turned 40 in 2004 and absolutely despised it!

I honestly didn't think I'd live that long. Of course time has a way of making you rethink your options as you get closer to the finish line of life. Only to discover that another race awaits. A bigger question now becomes whether or not you go a full sprint, a slow jog, or a fast walk.

If youth is wasted on the young, suffice to say my hyper kinetic way of thinking broke the sound barrier on a few occasions. The season of sports now comes to a crawl in Dallas as we count down to the start of NFL training camp.

All of this is jumbled in my mind as I recall that today is a 40th birthday for Livonia's own Mike Modano. He also has had a very wonderful 22 year run in Minnesota and Dallas as a Star. All of us have a moment awaiting us that says, 'Stay another year or time to move on?' It's a tough decision when the thing you do is what you've known for so long or merely love.

The ovation and four minute moment of saying 'Thank You' from the Stars faithful back in April is something you can't recreate or reprise. That was a moment that came and went. It is normal for an athlete to have second thoughts about quitting. That's normal.

What you can't do in the book of life is revisit ground you have already covered. In other words, if Mike Modano decides he still has life in his legs, his desire to play will no doubt be elsewhere. My guess being Detroit or Minnesota. The next time we see Mikey Mo in Stars regalia will be as a coach or owner. 

Change for some is tough. Some never take that chance for fear of what it might entail. I have every confidence in the world that Mike Modano will be just fine with whatever he decides to do. Happy Birthday Mike!

If alive today would also have been a 63 birthday for a man I was very fond of as a kid. Thurman Munson, the last Yankee after Lou Gehrig and before Derek Jeter, would die tragically in August of 1979 while working on landing maneuvers with his Cessna jet. He was only 32. Yes he was surly and yes he could be grouchy and mean. Boy, could he call a ball game.

When it was time to play, he fought like no other. I always take a moment to honor the memory of Kent State's finest when this date rolls around. Thurman Munson was a gamer. You always knew where you stood with him. Here's to you Squatty! You were the man!

All these ages I make light of are just numbers. I contend that if you are happy doing what you do, tracking age is like chasing water down a drain. Worthless. Life begins as you see fit when content to remain in the moment.

Life begins when death ends...

Over and out in Big D.

Mr. Will