I wish. My grandfather was a lean, mean farming machine with a cannon for an arm. He lived to be 101 before he passed away. Other than his 100th birthday party, the thing I remember was an 70 year-old man playing catch with his grandson. I was pitching in Little League so he turned up the heat to show me what he could still do. Stung my hand he threw so hard.

Turns out he used to play for the Pony League and was the best pitcher in the region. Even got recruited by the New York Yankees but his father told him he was still needed on the farm. So he stayed, or he would have been pitching alongside Babe Ruth. He threw so hard that he broke the catcher's hand so they would buy a big old steak to put under the catcher's mitt. By the end of the game (pitchers in those days went all nine innings with no relief), that thing was hamburger.