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Show rain ixtrvtM u ' nuisviay, i.v.m- o by Jim Murray Tell me it ain't so, Sugar Ray "in order to destroy a man, it is only necessary to give his work the character of uselessness. "- -Schopenhauer. All my life, I'd looked forward to retirement, beginning with when I first went to work. It was to be a reward for a lifetime of deadlines met, planes caught, cars rented, Holiday Inns slept in, insults taken, home life missed, dues paid, Joneses kept up with, outside opportunities squandered. You can't stop to smell the roses if there are quotas to be filled, bills paid, mouths fed and miles to go before you sleep, as the poet said. So, whenever anyone warned that day was coming and I should dread it, a little secret smile would play about my lips. I remember one day when a newly retired colleague was barred by a new security guard from a locker-room door and a friend exclaimed to me: "See! The minute you retire you can't get in a locker room any more! " I thought to myself "Buddy-boy, the minute I retire, wild horses couldn't drag me into another locker room!" That's what I thought. Today, I am a badly shaken man. My values are beginning to sag. And all because of Sugar Ray Leonard. Sugar Ray Leonard is a superbly gifted young pugilist who won a gold medal, several million dollars and instant adulatory recognition wherever he went in the world as I a result of a career in the prize ring. He also won a detached retina. The retina is the negative which lets the brain read what the eye's lens sees. Sugar Ray retired from his cruel sport at the height of his powers. Most people dream i all their lives of being able to retire and take You can see what that does to the notion of retirement as a reward, retirement as the culmination of a dream. Here is a man who would risk mutilation to get out of what most of us strive a lifetime to get into. He doesn't ned the money, he doesn't n d the fame. He just can't abide being an "ex. ' What does that say for the joys of not having to show up for work every day? The world of sport, in general, is a poor advertisement for Leisure World. John Henry, at a horse age the equivalent of a sexagenarian, is winning horse races. That must kill his feet. Sam Snead is still teeing it up in golf tournaments at 71. Imagine how his back aches? Pete Rose is still sliding headfirst into home plate at an age when he should have trouble climbing stairs. Demp-sey Demp-sey came back. Jim Brown will if somebody hands him a football. Satchel Paige wouldn't quit. How can you miss nosebleeds, spli' lips, cut eyes, subdural hemorrhages, toothaches, headaches, roadwork at 5 in the norning in the snow, busted knuckles, swoli. n spleens? Why would you want to buck fi r another retinal detachment instead of a slow boat to China or a winter in the Alps? Is life really that boring when the cheering stops? Is it that hard to see other people playing around with your title? It must be. Only the other night we were treated to the spectacle of Uncle Walter himself, the heavyweight champ of all network anchormen, complaining petulantly about the quality of the newscasters succeeding him, obviously regretting he didn't stay around to slug it out with them, teach them a thing or two. Aren't having your own sailboat and sleeping till noon or golfing whenever you want to and throwing away your clocks enough? It's depressing. Does this mean someday I myself will regret not being able to go down in a dressing room and ask a guy who just threw the interception that lost the Super Bowl, "How come you didn't notice you could run it in?" or asking the pitcher who just threw the home run that lost the World Series, "Ever occur to you to walk him in that situation?" Is heaven, after all, a place v.' re you work 9 to 5 with two weeks vacation a year? Maybe hell is where you got nHhing to do and Schopenhauer was right. Hi also said that "the two foes of human happines- are pain and boredom." Sugar Ray obviously feels the former is the lesser of two evils. 1983 Los Angeles Times . Distributed by Los Angeles Times S yndica te a cruise around the world with their loved ones. They dream of azure seas, moonlight sails, tropical lagoons, South Sea paradises. Trouble is, when they get to them, their bones ache, their feet hurt, their arthritis acts up, they can't see at night, champagne makes them ill, the orchestra makes too much noise and, all in all, they'd rather be back in Peoria trimming roses or emptying the trash. But Sugar Ray is only 27. So, I thought he had the best of two worlds : retirement and the means to enjoy it at an age when his glands and senses would let him. Well, as you may have noticed, Sugar Ray wasn't having any. He chucked it all. At the risk of losing an eye, maybe both of them, he's, going back in the rat race. He couldn't stand retirement. He couldn't take the carpet slippers, the garden in the back. He couldn't stand not getting hit for a living. He couldn't standbeirtga'nobodyC" - i i |