Well after a weekend in which the highlight was four rumbles of thunder and six spits of rain, spread over a two day period, it was back it with another Monday rolling around today. The day got off to a rather strange start as the alarm blasted at 7:15am. It usually doesn't do that until almost 8:00 on Mondays, but due to the warmer weather Kay's Monday morning tennis group was going to play from 8:00 to 9:30 this morning. It wasn't long after she rolled out that I rolled out, but my posse was not gathering until the usual time of 9:30am. I went to the club early, in order to watch the Mrs. do battle with her group, and got to watch another of the men's 4somes have it out as well. The problem was that the Hammer was involved in that tussle, and was not going to be part of my regular posse today. If he's going to do that I fully expect that he dominates and humiliates this other group in order to keep up the honor and reputation of the posse.
When our time came it was myself, John...a man who is always happy...along with Ken and Jake who met on the court of competition. As we went along in the first set, which for my team was not going well at all (go figure!) I hit a perfectly placed, and brilliant I might add, drop shot in the middle of the court. This was a completely legal and highly ethical thing to do. As John moved in from the baseline he appeared to trip over the back line on the service box and down he went. Now when a guy who is nearly as old as dirt takes a tumble like that you can think of only one thing...someone call a personal injury attorney so we can all cash in! Fortunately, John rolled through the fall minimizing the carnage. Once we got the pieces of him put back together we continued on, playing around the pools of blood. John was still happy, but battered and bruised. That fall seemed to wake him up as he was the one doing the dominating and humiliating, along with Jake, of myself and Ken. In the second set things began to turn for me. I was paired with John (still happy) who was now getting pretty adept at moving around the court on a gurney. About half way through the set I returned a serve with a blistering forehand that flew about 100 yards off the court to the left as I heard the sound of "twzing". One of the strings on the old racquet had broken. There were no signs of any cats in the area, to borrow a bit of gut from, so I ran into the pro shop to get a loaner so that we could play on. We ended up, John and I, winning the set 6-3, and by the end he was playing with the aid of an iron lung.
The remainder of the day at tennis, there was only 10 minutes left after set #2, was rather uneventful. By Wednesday I'll have my old racquet back, restrung and ready, and we'll get back at it again. We'll see how well John plays from a casket.
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