Overview:
The 38th Annual World Senior Games drew 12,063 athletes to St. George, Utah to compete in 42 sports last month
My very long life flashed before my eyes as a softball towered in front of me at last month’s 38th annual Huntsman World Senior Games in St. George, Utah.
It felt like I was living the final baseball scene from the movie classic Damn Yankees.
That 1958 musical comedy, adapted from the book The Year the Yankees Lost the Pennant, had been crafted as baseball’s version of the Faustian legend.
An aging fan sells his soul to the devil to be turned into “Shoeless” Joe Hardy — a young slugger with the ability to turn his long-suffering Washington Senators into an American League title contender.
But the devil in the details is an escape clause that Joe Hardy exercises just before the final, climactic game against the New York Yankees.
Lucifer waits until Shoeless Joe approaches a crucial flyball — the pennant hanging in the balance — to transform him back into a middle-aged man.
My own sphere of doom was launched during the playoff round for men’s softball at the Senior Games, a 42-sport extravaganza that’s been held every year since 1987.
I stumbled forward, dropped to my achy knees, and looked up in a dizzying attempt to spot the ball. It was fluttering somewhere among all the other floaters that plague my eyeballs.
I had become Shoeless Joe Hardy … except I knew better than to strike a bargain with the devil.
My plea was made instead to Saint George, the patron saint of Boy Scouts who was righteous enough to have a city named after him.
“Let this old, former Scout make this catch,” I prayed as the ball descended, “and I promise to never, ever miss another day of church in my life!”
At my age, how many more Sundays would I be committing to, anyway?
And so, just like with Shoeless Joe, the ball dropped miraculously into my glove as I extended it blindly.
We won the game, too … although the whole experience soon had me lost in thought.
With all the physical challenges that guys my age face, how can a kid’s game be the one that triggers the most anxiety?
Perhaps it was because of my age.
Maybe it takes something like the World Senior Games to breathe purpose into a septuagenarian’s life.
It gets him to look forward to that next gym workout, that next batting practice, and that next ball game.
We lost that next game to finish in fourth place with a 5-2 record, just one spot short of a bronze medal.
I limped away with nothing more than the red badges of courage of two skinned knees, a sprained left ankle, and assorted aches and pains in muscles that I did not know even existed.
But it also made me want to live long enough to return to St. George for another try next year.
And maybe that’s what’s really worth its weight in gold.
The Gold Standard
Dr. Steve Zelko, a Santa Barbara ophthalmologist, plans to keep coming back to the Senior Games even after winning his 23rd consecutive gold medal in men’s volleyball last month.
The former UC Santa Barbara star earned his first 11 golds in the 50-and-over division and then 10 more in the 55s.
He won his second gold in the 60s several weeks ago by leading Team Western States Laguna past a Michigan team in the finals.
But Zelko has been a champion of volleyball’s youth movement even longer, curing the ills of players and teams as a coach on every beach and indoor court in town.
“From high school and club teams to the college level, his involvement has lifted everyone around him,” said Bishop Diego High coach Dillan Bennett.
“There’s no doubt his influence has played a huge part in our success over these last seven seasons.
“Those of us who know him are lucky to call him a friend.”
The freshmen and sophomores at Santa Barbara City College often find this real senior on their court.
“Despite a demanding work schedule, he continues to volunteer countless hours watching practice and game film, attending practices whenever possible, and even jumping in to play,” said Bridget Kulesh, coach of the Vaquero men’s team.
“His technical expertise has greatly improved the team’s precision below the net, as Steve would say, especially in our passing and defense.
“Steve’s passion for the game is contagious, inspiring everyone who has had the privilege of playing with or for him.”
UCSB women’s coach Matt Jones, one of Kulesh’s predecessors at SBCC, said “Steve’s influence may arguably be the greatest on my current commitment to this profession.”
“He really loves volleyball in a way that is infectious to everyone he meets,” Jones said. “He is the quintessential example of how a commitment to growth throughout your life will never stop bearing fruits.
“You are never too old to learn or to improve, and he keeps doing both.”
Zelko’s commitment to his alma mater of UCSB is now at four-plus decades and counting.
Men’s volleyball coach Rick McLaughlin considers Zelko and his wife, Katie, to be “by far our biggest supporters” among the Gaucho alumni.
“They say that true greatness in sports is weighed over time,” McLaughlin said. “If this is true, Steve is the best volleyball player I know.”
Senior Moments
Zelko and I were two of the 12,063 athletes who competed last month in sports ranging from archery to softball, and horseshoes to volleyball.
It ranks as the largest annual multisport event in the world for athletes who are age 50 and older.
My own team, the East-West Aircraft Pilots, played against softball players from one far shore of our country to another — from Līhuʻe, Hawai‘i to Vero Beach, Florida.
My wife, Theresa, and I even accepted a challenge from a pair of Salt Lake City handball players in a completely different sport while attending the event’s “Friendship Festival” at the Dixie Convention Center.
The social gathering featured a concert, cuisine … and our friendly little combat in cornhole.
We won two games out of three, prompting my quick ascent onto the nearby medals podium for a victory photograph.
And even my most painful play of the week — the slide into third base that injured my ankle — resulted in a feel-good moment.
The third baseman for the Sun City Warriors of Georgetown, Texas, offered his hand to help me back up from the base.
I saw the ball in his glove and said, “Yeah, but then you could tag me out.”
“No way, buddy,” he replied. “You don’t play those kind of games at a place like this.”
