Sports can really make you feel old. You put a 30-year-old businessman or woman in a room full of CEOs, and he/she is a prodigy. But a star athlete who turns 30 is declining. He’s almost finished. Athletes age so fast. Joe Cox seems like he’s been at Georgia forever. LaDainian Tomlinson seems like he was just a young star. Now, he’s getting mail from the AARP.

A 30-year-old involved with gymnastics has probably been coaching for the last 12 years since her retirement. Mary Lou Retton retired when she was 18. A 30-year-old baseball player, now that you can’t use steroids, is considered old again. General managers look at 30-year-old running backs like they’re dogs who need to be put down.

I saw a report from one of those fantasy football writers that proved most running backs become worthless at the age of 30. They simply stop producing (cough cough Shaun Alexander cough cough). The statistics were just remarkable (remember that for your next fantasy draft).

If all this sounds a bit bitter, sounds a tad cranky, it’s because this column is written by someone turning 30 on Sunday.

Look, I know turning 30 doesn’t make me super old. I mean, Ward Gossett was working for the Times Free Press before moveable type. I was looking back at our archives the other day and I saw an ad for a silent movie next to one of Ward’s stories.

But when you cover sports, when you see these athletes age faster than bread, 30 suddenly seems kind of old. I am too old to start a baseball career. I’m finished as a running back.

My gymnastics career? Done.

National signing day was tough. You get these bios for the signees at Tennessee or Georgia or Alabama, and now the latest recruits are born in the 1990s. I’ve got to tell you — that one really hurts. These kids don’t remember, say, the earthquake right before the 1989 World Series. And it’s not because they don’t appreciate history. It’s because they didn’t exist.

There were already symptoms of turning a milestone age like 30. If I compete in any athletic activity, I’m more rigid the next day than Billy Gillispie’s personality. I often comment how I can’t believe the language and the provocative scenes on network TV now. Gosh, I feel old just typing that. I remember when something awesome was “cool.” Now it’s “hot.” It’s hard to keep up.

It’s too bad I’m not a Latin baseball player, or I would be 26 or so. And a Chinese gymnast? I would have to give back my driver’s license. Maybe that wouldn’t be so great.

You know who I think about, for some strange reason, now that I’m 30? Brett Favre. Not to sound like John Madden, but here’s a guy who seemed to personally offend people by returning to football, who was graying, who seemed to struggle in cold weather because he was, supposedly, an old man. This ancient guy needed to retire. I mean, come on, he’s so old.

Favre was 38 when he started the 2008 season. He’s probably more athletic than most people in their 30s. That group now includes me. So leave Brett and I alone.

But, since I’m not an athlete, I guess 30 is fine. Just don’t remind me that Tennessee signee Bryce Brown was born in 1991.

E-mail Darren Epps at depps@timesfreepress.com