Relativity

Johnny Podres died Sunday. I remember seeing him pitch for the Dodgers after they moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles in the late 1950s, and though at the time I doubt I knew his age, I guess I always thought of him (and other ball players) as much older than I. But he wasn't, as I discovered in reading his obituary: he turned 75 this past October. That's only 11 years and some months older than I am today.

How can that be? I felt so much younger than he when I watched him play ball, and now I feel such surprise that he was so young. Time and age are relative, I guess, and they compress with age . . . leastways, my age . . .