This may come as a surprise, but not all professional athletes are well known.
Without looking it up, can you name the two hockey players with the exact same name who both ended up with Vancouver in 1989? Or the white guy at the end of the bench on the Bulls' 72-win title team, who played seven minutes all year? Or the 11th round draft pick who played 18 years with the Falcons as a center and had his number retired?
Of course you can't. (That would be Greg Adams and Greg Adams, Jack Haley, and Jeff Van Note, respectively.) Some of us, like me, toil in obscurity -- and at least in my case, I liked it that way. I was never thrilled with the idea of being a star or a celebrity. In fact, I didn't like interacting with people at all. (With one exception, I still don't.) I ground through my career as a backup without partying or clubbing. I didn't hang out with the guys after the game, either. I had a small, Spartan apartment -- it had weights, workout equipment, and a computer so I could review data on my performance and study up on my opponents. When not eating or sleeping, I was either at home working out or in the gym practicing. I didn't have the natural talent of a superstar, so dedication and hard work were how I made my career last 12 years.
Since even backups now get paid millions, and I lived a very frugal lifestyle while in the league, I had a net worth of 15 million dollars when my career as an athlete ended. I hadn't blown it on cars or women or jewelry: I had invested it in the safest possible investment, US Treasury bills/bonds. If the government ever defaulted on those I'd have much bigger problems than not getting my money back. I converted them all into cash when I retired, then used some of the money to get as far away from people as possible -- I purchased a cabin located in what Jack London called the "savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild." (The rest of the money went into a savings account: I would live off the interest.) The cabin was a good mile outside the small town that in and of itself was barely considered an outpost of civilization. I had TV reception via satellite dish, power through underground cables. I had several generators and plenty of fuel for them, in case of an outage, and a few years' worth of food. I planned on not interacting with any other humans for at least 3 years, until I had to restock my food supplies. My books and TV, now that I no longer needed to bust my butt trying to remain a professional athlete, would keep me entertained.
I decided to learn as much as possible about my new environment, and put the same effort I had put into knowing my opponents into knowing what animals were around. Within 2 months I could step outside, see an animal walking, darting or flying by and recognize what it was. And as long as I had sufficiently warm clothing (I based a lot of my warm clothes on what the Netsiliks used in Amundsen's time), I could remain outside.
One day, I had dressed in my warm furs and settled myself on a nearby fallen tree. The stillness, quiet and peace were wonderful, so I did this often. An animal carefully slipped out from the forest into the small clearing I was in. I recognized it at once as a she-wolf.
Wolves have a negative reputation they don't really deserve. Although "Never Cry Wolf" had gone some ways towards restoring their good name, people still think of them as aggressive towards humans. The truth is the opposite -- they're skittish and shy. Thus, I didn't so much as blink twice. I merely remained still, looking at the she-wolf with curiosity.
After what could have been 10 minutes or may have been an hour instead -- I didn't bother looking at my watch -- the she-wolf decided I was harmless, and eased closer to me. I continued to do my best possible imitation of a statue. The she-wolf carefully inspected me, then sniffed at my torso and poked my hand with her nose.
I slowly lifted my hand from my side and held it out. She sniffed it, then licked it. I repeated the process with my other hand, and she did the same routine.
After that, satisfied, she turned away and slipped back into the woods -- but not before I noticed an unusual marking on her left front paw. It would identify her uniquely.
The same she-wolf came up to me every day for the next week when I sat outside. After that, I decided we were friends, and the next day I had a bowl containing some pieces of raw meat with me. When she appeared from the treeline, I took a piece of the meat and tossed it about halfway between her and me. She came up and sniffed it, then ate it. I repeated the process with several more pieces. For the last piece, I merely held it in my hand and extended it towards her. She was a bit reluctant for an instant, then came up and ate it out of my hand.
I ventured my other hand towards her head and slowly, ready to pull my hand back if she showed any signs of being uncomfortable, patted her on the head. I then put both hands back by my side.
There was a shimmering around her, and I suddenly found myself faced with, instead of a she-wolf, a tall woman in a wolfskin robe. I blinked and rubbed my eyes.
"Your eyes don't deceive you. You passed the test."
"What test?"
"You're new here. I'm a lycanthrope, as you can tell. I've been coming up to you in wolf form to see how you'd react. If you had tried to mistreat me, I would have bitten you and injected you with the substance that triggers lycanthropy. Being a full human, you can't become a true lycanthrope like me, so you'd have been uncontrolled."
"What would that have done?"
"Since there are no other humans around for you to have attacked, you'd have self-harmed to the point of death, and your body would return to human form when you died."
"Now I'm very glad I treated you right." I suddenly noticed a scar on her left hand. "Is that... the marking on your paw?"
"Yes. I accidentally cut my hand open while slicing carrots while in human form once. The scar will remain with me forever."
"By forever, do you mean..."
"Yeah, I'm immortal. I'm 100,000 years old but I'm ageless: I always look like this."
