And next was tennis ...
Before we moved to Ohio in late summer 1956 (I was about to turn 12), I don't think I'd ever played tennis. But not long after we arrived, Johnny Kelker (who would die of ALS) befriended me. He played some tennis, and his older brother, Norman, was quite good.
My dad had an old wooden racquet whose head was in a wooden frame, and he let me borrow it to play with Johnny. (I never once saw Dad or Mom play tennis.)
I got a little better.
Hiram had lots of events on the Fourth of July, and for a few years, when I was in junior high, they had a Portage County tennis tournament—with various age groupings. My age group had two who entered: friend Paul Misch (who would die of cancer) and I.
Paul beat me fairly easily and I broke down in tears up at the net. Paul consoled me.
The next year there were four, a girl who could barely play at all (whom I beat), Johnny Kelker, some other guy, and I. As I said, I easily beat the girl, beat Johnny, and became Portage County champion. I still have the wee medal I got that day.
I didn’t play often in high school—but now and then in the summer.
When I went off to Hiram College—and knew I couldn’t play on the baseball team, had quit the frosh basketball team—I thought I’d try tennis. The team had a few good players, and I thought I might at least get some exercise.
The team decided to let another frosh, Steve Dix (who would die a few years later in a small private plane crash), join me and play 3rd doubles. Steve was better than I, and I learned a lot from him.
As the college tennis years went on, I advanced to 2nd singles, didn’t win a lot (not many of us did), but by the time it was over, I had four varsity letters.
After college I worked in a couple boys’ camps a couple of years, the first, Camp Idylwold in upstate New York (near Schroon Lake). They had a pro, Joe Fishbach, and his two sons, Peter, about 17, and Michael, 9. All three of them could beat me. Yes, a 9-year-old could beat me.
After that, tennis just became exercise for me. An indoor tennis club lay between me and Harmon School in Aurora, Ohio, where I was teaching, and I joined their Early Bird program and for several years would play there from 5:30 to 6:30–then shower and dress and head for school.
This ended when son Steve was in sixth grade: I started taking him with me to Harmon, where he had a wonderful three years, I must say.
Oh, earlier (1979-80) I was an assistant coach for the girls’ tennis team at Western Reserve Academy, where Joyce and I were teaching. A couple of the girls could beat me.
And then it faded away. I sometimes would hit with our son, who had a mild interest in the sport. And at Harmon I started a Tennis Club that met during lunch period (but I mostly just supervised).
And then tennis drifted out of my life. I don’t think I even have a racquet now.
No matter. If I now were to take a swing at a ball, I’d promptly hit the ground and wake up in the ICU with a doctor looking at me and saying: “What were you thinking?”
Clearly, I wasn’t—which is no surprise.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
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