Gentlemen, in a blink of an eye, our sideburns are a little lighter, our belly a little bigger, and our gate a little slower.
Then we cross a white chalk line and we have found our fountain of youth. When we were younger, we wanted O-R-I-O-L-E-S spelled across our chest. The number 5,8 or 10 on our back.
Now we just don’t want to throw out our backs. Every Sunday, 20 fellas roll out of bed, suit up and cross the field of young to feel like they are 20 again.
See how every given Sunday is great medicine for our men of summer.
