I used to love to play tennis. Didn't discover it until I was a sophomore in high school. That was the year The Old House burned. For whatever reason she had, Mother came home one day with two wooden tennis racquets. Helvie and I took them and walked to the nearby Coon Rapids High School where about a dozen courts were available for public use. When the new house was finished and we moved back to the old property Stephen learned of my new found joy and he picked it up, too.
Neither of us knew much about the sport. As far as we could tell, it was basically ping pong outside on a large court, so that's how we played. It was our mutual friend, Kevin, who taught us the game. His family happened to be at the court next to ours. Kevin heard me announce a table tennis score and came over and gave us pointers on scoring and what the lines were for. The rest, as they say, is history.
I especially liked tennis because it was a sport I could play with just one other person. Baseball would have stayed my favorite if I just could have found enough people who wanted to play it. But baseball was too hard for most people. They were all migrating to slow-pitch softball - which I didn't much care for at all.
Stephen liked tennis, mostly, I think, because it meant so much to me. Chris liked it, too. He couldn't beat me, and eventually he would quit playing. It wasn't so much that he was a poor sport as it was tennis had become expensive for him. He began with a wooden racquet (like Stephen and I did), but it didn't take long before his old racquet broke under the stress of blocking shots from my T-2000. I got so I could hit some powerfully wicked shots with that racquet. Still have it, too.
So Chris purchased a new metal racquet of his own. It was better than the T-2000 - supposedly. He was going to beat me at last. We were playing in Anoka, at the 7th Street Park. Chris hit a poor approach shot and charged the net. Mistake. I was coming forward and hit a blast right at him. His only chance was to hold his racquet up, which he did. When the ball hit it, the racquet folded in half. Chris would never play again.
But before that happened I managed to do something completely stupid. And neither Chris nor Stephen ever let me forget it.
It was at the Coon Rapids courts. The lights would remain on there until about one in the morning, so one could get some good late night sets in, which is what Stephen, Chris and I did often. We would play until the lights went off and then head to one of our favorite pizza places: either Kenos or J's.
Well, this one night three young women about our ages were playing in the court next to us. They noticed us before we noticed them, but their coy antics quickly got our attention. We began taunting each other, as testing the waters for encouragement. Then one of the girls dared us to do something. As a single entitity the three of us walked onto their court. They squealed with delight. Now, instead of playing two-on-one, we had a three-0n-three. But that wasn't working well, so it was decided one guy and one girl would play a singles set while the others played doubles. We would trade off.
However it worked out like this, I can't remember, but I wound up playing singles with the prettiest girl of the three. What luck! I never got the prettiest girl before. In fact, I hadn't got any girl since first grade, when Vicki and Debbie fought over me. (Eventually, they both gave me up.)
Well, this is where I began being stupid. While Chris and Stephen and the two other girls were having fun and still managing to play some tennis, I played tennis. And of course I always played to win. Remember Chris's racquet? I could hit the ball really hard. Fortunately, I'm sure she was thinking, the lights suddenly went off. Tennis was over.
Now what were we going to do? Hmm.
While Chris and one of the girls were trying to determine who's apartment was closet, I came up with a brilliant idea. We could turn the car lights on and continue playing. Wouldn't that be great!
I think everyone else was too stunned with my suggestion to talk it down. So we began moving the cars. Stephen drove his car, and one of the girls drove the other. Why, I can't remember, but the trunks had been opened. Chris and one girl ran up and jumped into Stephen's trunk. The girl I was with suggested we do the same with the other car. I was game. Why not?
We ran up and I had to help her into the moving car. Then I pulled myself in. Unfortunately, my hand caught on something and I now had a terrible bleeding gash on my hand. This was more than the poor girl could take. Whatever interest she had had in me had not only faded, but it was now gone completely. And she seemed to be key to the one who had the keys, so those two were out. Chris and the girl with him would have liked to have continued what they were about, but neither of them had a car, and their transportation was leaving.
As we watched the girls drive away Stephen and Chris both turned on me.
You idiot!
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