Do you remember 1983? I sure do. That was the first year that I could consider myself a man. I graduated high school in 1983 and life was going to be fantastic. I had made plans to attend The Ohio State University (Mansfield campus). I had a job bagging (and carrying out) groceries with the local chain and I lived at home, so I had what I thought was disposable income. My friends were around for one last summer fling and I had discovered that I liked beer.

My Cleveland Indians had the look of a contender, again. They were a veteran team led by Mike "The Human Rain Delay" Hargrove, Andre Thornton, and Toby Harrah. Ron Hassey behind the dish and they added former Brewer's slugger Gorman Thomas for some more power. Bert Blyleven, Rick Sutcliffe, and Lenny Barker, trying to regain that perfect game form, led the pitchers. It was a season that showed promise, a team that would hopefully mature like I had and have their best season in the summer when I was at my peak as well.

By the end of that season most of my friends had scattered to various colleges, my job at the grocery store was not very pleasant, and trying to combine college life and living at home was a tightrope walk that would have made the Flying Walenda's proud. And the Indians finished last in the AL East, 28 games back. The only bright spot was the young shortstop with the unique batting grip and the jheri-curl hairstyle. Julio Franco led the Tribe in RBI's, stolen bases, and games played. He also led the team in times caught stealing, times grounded in to double plays, and errors, but he showed promise.

Fast forward to 2006. I now cheer for players at my old school that weren't born when I went there. Beer makes me sleepy and I have to shop in shifts at the grocery store because carrying out the cat litter and a case of bottled water at the same time makes my knees hurt. Oh yeah, Julio Franco just signed a two year deal with the New York Mets. Two years in the National League. At a time when I can barely DH in a computer game, Mr. Franco is going to play the field at the age of 47. At an age where I am playing hide and seek with the holes in my belt, Julio Franco at 47 looks as fit as Jack LaLaine at 47, and that's pretty good. He doesn't play shortstop any more he plays first base. But he can still play it well. In 41 fewer games than his first year in Cleveland, he hit nine home runs. Back in 1983 he hit eight. Last season in Atlanta he batted .275 as opposed to the .273 he hit in '83. At the age of 46 he stole four bases. When I turn 46 I'll be lucky to steal cable.

There are certainly a ton of things that are annoying when it comes to our national pastime. Steroids, a lack of fundamentals, situational pitching, overpriced salaries, and money grubbing owners to say the least. But for a moment, for those of you who can, look back to 1983 and remember what it was like. Look back and remember how things have changed. Then look forward and see how remarkable it is that a person like Julio Franco is still doing what he loves to do and is doing it well. Then smile.