I'm 26. Am I past it? Last week, I was reading the Wimbledon supplement in the Guardian, and noticed the ages of the seeded players. Of the men, only Sebastien "Grandad" Grosjean at 27, and Tim "Methuselah" Henman at a positively geriatric 30, are my senior. Of the leading women, only Lindsey Davenport is older than me. This was a sobering moment for me. It's not that I ever harboured ambitions of winning a tennis grand slam anyway, but it's becoming clear that my prospects of success in any sport are growing dimmer. I remember seeing Michael Owen score THAT goal against Argentina in 1998, and reflecting that he was a good six months younger than me. Even then, my chances of ever playing for Arsenal were becoming slim. My footballing services are currently engaged by Emmanuel Lightning of the Bromley and Croydon District League (3rd Division).
And this depressing reality extends beyond sport. Look at the worlds of music and cinema, or even politics. How many not-so-young pretenders make a serious impression in these areas after their early twenties? Is it paranoid of me to feel that I am descending into obsolescence, now that I am careering towards thirty? Or is my growing awareness and suspicion of the "cult of youth" just a sign that I really am getting on a bit and developing into a cantankerous old git? Maybe it's time for me to invest in a pipe, slippers and bag of Werther's Originals.