I Sing the Body Defective

Over the weekend a blog at the New York Times site reported that a Malaysian man had been killed at a karaoke bar because other patrons thought he had been hogging the microphone. Blogger Robert Mackey went on to cite other reports of karaoke violence, much of it having to do with people trying to sing Sinatra's "My Way" or just about any John Denver song. All of which, in its own way, is kind of understandable.

I don't sing well, but I love to perform so karaoke is a natural for me. It has been two years since I last stepped up to the karaoke microphone.

It was at the company Christmas party, so of course I had had a bit to drink. (Well, probably more than a bit since I was willing to sing in public.) But once I got up there, it was a disaster. Without my glasses, I couldn't read the lyrics very well and was relying on a slightly fuzzed memory of the words to "Stand By Me". But worst, I couldn't hear the music I was supposed to sing along to. All I heard on the track were the drums.

Now for quite awhile I have been asking people to repeat what they've just said to the point where Linda has started answering for me when clerks or waitresses or other such people ask me something. But this marked the night that I officially and formally entered the public ranks of the hard of hearing.

I couldn't tell for sure, but I am guessing that within 20 seconds I was about 10 bars behind the recording and fading fast. Fortunately, unlike that unlucky guy in Malaysia, rather than getting attacked I was with plenty of friends, many of whom got up and started singing with me.

Having my hearing fade is only one of the things that happen now that I am entitled to call myself a senior. OAPs (that's old-age pains for those under 50) are so common that I don't even look for a reason when a new one crops up, figuring most are just the result of sixty years of living like I have.

But OAPs don't get me down (especially since I am pretty sure it would be very hard work to get back up). In fact lately I have started to feel much better about them. That's because when I read sports reports, I have started to look at the bottom bit that lists any injuries the players may have had.

Just in today's games that my favorite Boston teams played, there were these reports for their competitors: Indiana guard Mike Dunleavy was out with a sore right knee and his teammate Travis Diener sat out with a sore foot. In football, the Seahawks' quarterback Matt Hasselbeck didn't play because he had a sore back.

Knee. Check. Foot. Check. Back. Check. Yep, my aches and pains are the same ones that highly paid, physically superior athletes have. From now on, I'm not even going to call them old-age pains. They're my senior sports injuries. And don't bother laughing at me. I really can't hear you.