Mark Martin won two NASCAR events since April, including the Southern 500 in July. Martin is a geezerish 50. That’s 84 in NASCAR years.

    Tom Watson was the best golfer in the world through 71 holes at Turnberry in the British Open, less than a year after a hip replacement. Watson is a codgerish 59.  That’s 66 in pro golf years.

    I’m a geezer and I say this for geezers everywhere “WAY TO GO, GUYS!” We geezers like to say things in capital letters, easier to read… and hear.

    It would have been nice had Tom, or “Toom” as the Scots were yelling, sunk his 5 footer on the 72nd hole but I’m proud anyway. Had he sunk it, it may have triggered heart attacks everywhere. We geezers can only take so much. Had he sunk that putt we would have returned to golf course in droves and be shouting to the whippersnappers “Get off my green.” We would have been making ridiculous bets thinking we’re going to go all Tom Watson on these youngsters. We would have dug out the Sans-a-belts and the plaid socks and set golf fashion back twenty years.
   
    Mark Martin is still driving strong at 50. Martin has always been my hero, ever since he had the guts to drive the 6 car sponsored by Viagra. It takes a special kind of race car driver to let your self be aligned with erectile dysfunction. Mark did this without blinking and showed he could be a potent driver in the big blue car. He could even be scary to the driver in front when that driver looks back and sees big blue on his tail with the sign “Viagra” in his rear view mirror. Mark was so good at driving the Viagra car that for four years in a row Martin finished second in the Nextel Cup series.  We find that ironic because that’s what Viagra is supposed to help you do – finish second.

    Many thought Watson would wear under the pressure and the grind of a truly unforgiving course.    “He’s got a gimpy hip,” they said. “When the wind comes in, his game will shrink,” they assumed. “This course tires out young men. Imagine what it will do to an elder.” Watson never tired.   He gave every shot his all. He’ll be ever enshrined in the Geezer Museum.

    Geezers everywhere will tip our hats to these guys, wipe a tear from behind our giant oversized glasses and wheeze in unison at the mention of their names. We’ll stop in the two car dealerships Martin owns in Arkansas and trade in our clunkers. We might even visit the senior citizen lot area of his dealership. That’s the section easy to recognize because every car in the lot has its left turn blinker on... and where all the cars have tri-focal windshields and big pockets in the door for our fruit. We’ll might even dust off the clubs and maybe buy a new set of golf balls to put in the trunks of these new cars.  

    Then we’ll put on our sweaters, go to the course in 103 degree temperatures and drop like flies. Guys will approach a green and find a geezer lying face-up in the sand trap. They’ll feel fortunate that their ball is lying in the wrinkles of a grizzled face and not buried deep in the sand. For these easier shots even the young golfers will bow toward Kansas City and say “Thank you Tom Watson.”
    And that’s what we say: Thank you, Tom Watson. Thank you, Mark Martin.