This is a special treat. Today is my 67th birthday and I'm celebrating with a Medium, rather than Small, DeCaf coffee. Actually I've been quietly celebrating from the moment I got up. I had my rather usual breakfast that I invented since arriving here, which I will not bore you with. Then I went out to the Round Robin - Tennis, shortly after 9:00 a.m., a respectable time to play tennis, I think, rather than 8:00 a.m. which sometimes takes a Herculean effort.
Since Jay Leno returned to the 11:30 p.m. slot I've been watching him. I miss Conan O'Brien. I got so I looked forward to his antics. I hope he'll pop up again somewhere. Anyway, Leno has had some of the Gold Medal Olypians on. Perhaps you've seen them? After Leno comes What's His Name, Fallon. Jimmy Fallon. He can be funny too. Letterman can be funny. They all can be funny, but are they funny on a night when I'm watching? That is the crucial question.
Anyhow, the past couple of nights I've dosed off and on through Leno and into Fallon, read a little more from John's book, Canadian Meds and turned the light off around 2 a.m. So, jumping up at 7:30 - 8:30 is Okay, but I do prefer 7 to 8 hours sleep. However it is impossible to stay up til 2 a.m. and get up in time for tennis and get 7 to 8 hours sleep. What to do?
Dressed in four layers I made it out to the courts this a.m. a little after 9. Two courts, 8 players playing. six or more on the bench in the sun. No one on the bench in the shade. The wind, out of the North West, was blowing - I'd estimate - 15 to 20 mph, gusting above that. Skip's estimate: 20 knots when he came to spectate around 11 a.m. Different than mph.
It was fun, as always. With all the new renters here for the month of March there are new, different players. So, the Tennis Tournament has a full complement of 20 players now. There are plenty of linespersons, a few people to sub if someone breaks a leg or has a stroke. Heaven Forbid.
Some of the regulars didn't show this a.m. Probably too windy for them. I like the wind. It is always a good excuse for not getting to the ball. "Oh, the wind took it." Not that I like to use excuses, but some people do. The wind adds another element to the rather odd level of play.
A guy named George was new. Now we have three Georges. George Hullock, from England is George I, George Kfoury from Long Island, is George II and this George ? is George III. Joe and Mary Cataldo have arrived from Massachusetts. They are regular March renters, Boston accent and all. They had two friends with them who aren't playing in the tournament, Catherine and Neil. The tension is mounting. Only three more Round robins in which to practice. Of course some people play most every day. Most every day they aren't on the golf course. I just go out to the Round Robins. I was asked to be a 4th with three of the older ( well almost everyone is older) men the other day, but I opted to keep my plan to attend a class at the Y.
Raj Marharaj, the Pro at the ECTC would die if he could see the players and how they play. Most people defy every rule I've ever heard Raj utter. Many people plant themselves in No-Mans land as a way to avoid running for the ball. Of course you can imagine what happens to them from time to time. Balls right at their feet, etc.
So, I am constantly struggling to remember Raj's good advice and now fall into bad habits. Often someone will suggest to me that I step closer for the return of someone's serve, but I'd rather run forward than plant myself in No Man's Land with the others. It is tempting. From time to time serves get plopped over the net, but, in general, the drop serve is not what I'm faced with. More the over-agressive slam off the side of the court or some serve with lots of spin on it. Who knows how to return that?
Nothing like a challenge. One guy serves side arm, sorta underhand with lots of spin. Your partner could be anyone in round robin so that adds to the fun. Luckily there are only a couple of people who are noticeably competitive. There are others I'm sure who care whether they win or loose, but they don't drill the ball down your throat, usually, to win. A nice change from the MGC.
For those of you who don't play tennis, I'm sure you've wandered off to other things by now. Perhaps I'll get the Buick in gear and go over to the mainland and continue from there.
FAN
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