In my mind, the most dreaded age milestone is the point at which superstar professional athletes are actually younger than you. It’s a fluid milestone, obviously.
“That’s what I hate about these athletes, man. I get older, they stay the same age.”
Two months ago, young desk jockeys nationwide had small existential crisis over this idea when 21-year-old Jordan Spieth won The Masters.
Yesterday was another noteworthy day for the “I hate professional athletes that are younger than me” phenomenon. As the MLB Draft got underway last night, several kids were picked in the first round, where signing bonuses alone top the million-dollar plateau at every pick, and yes, they were all younger than me. Nonetheless, one of these aforementioned young studs selected last night was a dear childhood friend of mine, but we grew apart in high school after selecting different sports paths. Turns out, he was really, really good, and I was not.
Given that this guy is about to be a multimillionaire for being able to throw a ball faster than my preowned Chevy Impala has ever gone, I came to an epiphany, realizing there had to be a catch to all of this: my modest 9-to-5 life is actually better than any entitled, lucrative professional athlete’s life.
For everyone out there who, like me, wishes there was a way you could get a suntan from the 40-plus hours you spend each week under fluorescent lighting, it’s time to cheer up. Here are four things that are better about our lives than the empowered athletes whose seven-figure salaries still make no sense to me.
I’m a wanderlust junkie. St. Augustine once said, “The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.” I actually hate reading books. The amount of books I’ve read cover-to-cover in the past five years is embarrassing, to be honest.
But it doesn’t take away from the point at hand: take advantage of all that life has to offer and educate yourself in the most authentic, exhilarating way possible. If Alan from The Hangover was a professional athlete, is there any way he and his new wolf pack could have ever “run around the desert together in Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine” while (almost) becoming blood brothers? The professional athlete has no freedom to get into spontaneous shenanigans, which is the whole point of being a twenty-something anyway, right?
Date Like A Gentleman
When was the last time you heard about an athlete who did something admirable with a woman? More often than not, every sentence uttered about professional athletes and their women includes one or more phrases along the lines of “domestic violence,” “[unpaid] child support,” or “filing for divorce.” Thanks, but I’d really rather not go down any of those roads.
Sure, I’ll admit I’m a bit of a goody-goody when it comes to this part of my life, but I’d rather have control of it than have it swerve out of control, like a lot of athletes seem to do.
Do With My Body As I Please
When you’re getting paid inappropriate amounts of cash to physically exert yourself on the reg, you no longer are entitled to do what you want with your own body. Your livelihood depends on it. If team trainer Ralph Macho wants you to feast on a kale-only diet for a week, you don’t have a choice.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no sucker for the senseless “dad bod” fad. I do take pride in my fitness, albeit much along the same lines of Dom Mazzetti: I have no shame in saying I workout primarily for the purpose of bettering my looks, but under no circumstances do I need some PED-using little man to micromanage the fuck out of me so I can shave .05 seconds off of my 40-yard-dash. I’m an adult for shit’s sake, and I’m positive the Dairy Queen Blizzard of the month won’t make my biceps and pecs any smaller.
Not Have Too Much Money
I disagree with the old adage claims that money can’t buy happiness. Regarding this age-old ethical dilemma, Daniel Tosh once said, “You ever seen a sad person on a wave runner? Try to frown on a wave runner.” It’s impossible to disagree with that logic. No doubt, I’d like to have at least enough money to have a wave runner at my fingertips.
But I definitely don’t want enough money for 20 goddamn wave runners. Every professional athlete’s earnings are pretty damn public. Can you imagine having a salary of $4 million and everyone in the world knowing it? It’d be impossible for them to look at you the same again. Just watch the ESPN 30 for 30 titled “Broke” — documentary proof that being a rich pro athlete will ruin your life.
Alright, maybe I’m just a little bitter. Whatever. Cheers to you for not being a professional athlete and instead living the American dream by reading this piece of scholarly journalism, wasting 10 minutes of work time on your company’s dime..
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