A Sportsman’s Life   LOSS AND FOUND

AROUND THE TIME you think you’ve earned a bit of peace and predictability, life springs the trap door beneath your feet, your feet churn like in a Road Runner cartoon, and you start to fall. “I’m too old for this crap,” you protest as you plummet. To which life shrugs and smiles. “Maybe not.”

While no single part of the crap I’m too old for is remarkable, the combo platter is more than I bargained for. To wit:

• I’m recently and unwillingly single,