In The Game

It was their third time playing tennis together and Ace and Hal still had not played an actual set against each other yet. Ace was anxious to get some match play under his belt because he knew he would need it against the other players at the club. He enjoyed just hitting. It gave him a chance to get into a rhythm, grove his shots and get his timing down. He could hit all day if he was lucky enough to find someone to rally with at the public courts that he used to drive around to during the summers. But club players were all about playing sets and keeping score. A lot of guys could rally but real players need to be able to hold their serve and Ace knew he was not ready for prime time. He had to get Hal to play some sets.

Head Game

The dispatch office was loud and dirty. It was also very small. Only twelve feet by 20 feet, it had only one small window that looked out over the back parking lot of the cable company where the vans were parked. But the worse part was the smell. With as many as eleven or twelve people jammed into one room during peak working hours the body oder alone was enough to make a visitor's eyes water. Two long counters ran along the longer walls and they each had a half dozen computer terminals wired up. Next to each monitor was a desk top phone with six separate lines that would ring out loud whenever a technician would call in from the field. Each line had a small, clear plastic square button that would begin to blink with every ear splitting ring. Often all twelve lines would be ringing at the same time. At the end of each counter was a stand up microphone reminiscent of the one that Johnny Carson had on his desk at the Tonight Show. It was connected to a two-way radio just like the cab companies used. Instructions would be transmitted to the men - and one woman - who did the installations for Cablevision Systems. For eighteen hours a day the place was continually assaulted by spilled coffee, doughnut crumbs and muffled farts that were released into the cushions of the swivel chairs where each dispatcher parked his ass for their shift.

Week 9 - Mismatch

Hal was late getting to the health club again the following Saturday. Ace knew he had no right to get annoyed because he was never on time for anything himself. The truth was he was glad to have a hitting partner, even if Hal was someone he wouldn't normally buddy up with. He had a sense that Hal might be gay but he couldn't be sure and besides, what did it matter?

 

Guest Post - The Nerve Monster

It’s almost a 2 hour ride from Stoughton, MA to Bloomfield, CT. Lots of time for Deuce to think. He was on his way to a USTA tournament – not his first. His first was about 30 years ago in Norwood, MA, not long after he had joined his first tennis club. Most of the details were sketchy in his memory, but he remembered losing handily to a guy he probably should have beaten. Except for nerves. His muscles were so tight he could barely keep the ball in the court. And his opponent had an incredible spin serve that went left or right, and all Deuce could do was guess which way he needed to go to have a chance of returning it.

Nerves are a funny thing. Deuce had played many competitive matches since that day, some in leagues, most among friends. And most of the time, he had been able to make tension into a positive force, a motivator if you will. But every once in a while, the muscles would tighten when least expected, as if to say “I’m still here and I can ruin you on a whim!” And I guess that facing off that demon was one of his goals in signing up for an Over 60 USTA Tournament. Having some fun with a different experience was the other.