The health club had an active tennis scene and Ace took advantage of it right away. The health club made it's money on the endless number of other programs they offered so they didn't bother charging any hourly court fees like most of the other tennis clubs. Since court time was free there were always plenty of people hanging around the lounge ready to jump into a match or even just to hit balls with for an hour. Free tennis created a unique atmosphere where the better players were willing to get on court with people who they would not normally play with since it did not cost them anything. Still, Ace was careful not to get into any groups that were clearly over his head. He knew it would take time to get his game into gear.
Ace signed up for some of the clinics that the club pro ran and also got the names of a few people from the "Meet Your Match" directory that was in the pro shop. He found two players who had a similar schedule and set up some matches. That was the first thing he noticed about his new club. Almost everyone wanted to play regular sets of tennis rather than rally for practice and exercise. Ace just wanted to hit a thousand balls and knew he wasn't really ready for match play just yet. Keeping score took the fun out of it as far as he was concerned. His old roommate used to drive him crazy because he insisted on keeping score and would always beat Ace whenever they played together, even though his roommate didn't even own a tennis racquet and only played twice a year.
So he took his lumps like a good sport and starting losing to guys who he knew he should be able to beat. They would shake hands at the end of the match and Ace would go home trying to figure out why he played so badly. Losing was not fun and he was starting to wonder if joining a club was such a smart idea after all. And none of the people he had met so far seemed like guys he would want to hang out or have a beer with.
One day at his office Ace was telling someone about his new club. Just then a younger fellow was walking past and overheard him talking about playing tennis.
"Tennis?" asked the young man. "You play tennis?"
Ace had seen him around the company but had never met him. He was surprised by his outwardly, forward approach. Ace gave the young man a puzzled look.
"I play tennis," the co-worker said. "I'll play with you."
Ace was momentarily stunned into silence.
Finally, he muttered "Well, yeah. I play. I just joined a club."
He figured that as soon as he announced that he belonged to a real tennis club player the kid would realize he was out of his league and leave him alone.
"Oh, that's great," the co-worker continued. "I'll hit with you."
Who is this fucking guy he wondered? Ace looked him over carefully now and realized that he appeared to be in pretty decent shape. He was taller than Ace by a couple of inches and certainly did not lack confidence. He was young, black, good looking and eager. Is this guy for real he asked himself?
"Well, the only free time I have is on Saturday night," Ace offered. "And there's a twenty dollar guest fee."
Surely this guy had something better to do than chase balls around a tennis court on a Saturday evening.
"Saturday is great for me. My name is Hal. Leave me directions to your club in my mailbox in the manager's office. I'll see you there Saturday night. Nine o'clock.
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