Tennis Anyone?

A couple of weeks ago, I discovered tennis again. John asked me if I wanted to play tennis up at the Lake Wynonah Lodge. Well, not particularly. My idea of a workout these days is a very regimented 30 to 45 minute cardio workout on either an elliptical machine, stepper, or treadmill IN THAT ORDER. I throw in weights too every now and then, but nothing too Arnold Schwarzenegger. And I hate treadmills, did I mention that? BORING ... even with "American Pickers" on the TV in front of me spouting their latest treasures.

Marc with Ankle Injury


I hadn’t played tennis in over 10 years. I think the last time was when John asked me to play as well. I played to appease him and get him off my back, didn’t particularly enjoy it. I think I really sucked. I will even go as far as to say it caused me great personal injury. OK, maybe I got hit by a stray tennis ball and blacked out momentarily.

It wasn’t like way back when … picture it, 1982. I was taking tennis lessons at the Wenonah Swim Club. Back then I was the star of my tennis class ... yeah right, anyone who knows me knows I was hiding somewhere in the back of the class to avoid getting called. Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe were tennis idols. Every guy wanted to marry Chrissy Evert. I was just trying to get by without getting hit by those damn stray tennis balls. At least waaaay back then, I had a smidgen of tennis talent (I think.)

John Looking Too Serious


Who are we kidding, I was playing tennis every day, attempting to serve the ball, tossing it in the air, and having it hit me in the eye every friggin’ time! If I wasn’t taking professional lessons … which I sucked at … I was playing with friends in flip flops stubbing my toes to bloody pulps on the courts. But nevertheless, my friends and I did have countless hours of fun hanging out on those hot tennis courts. Sometimes we played in bare feet standing on our pool towels, trying ever so carefully to hit it to each other without having to run across the hot court. What were we thinking? We were definitely NOT the perfect tennis players of the 80’s wearing matching preppy Izod shirts, shorts, and white sneaks!

Once again, I matched that opposite look playing tennis with John. There I was in my Rutgers t-shirt, Under Amour shorts, Skechers sneaks with stand out black socks! But luckily, no flip flops. This time, I actually and completely enjoyed myself. I think it has to do with my age. After 40, I just don’t give a flying *@&# how I look as long as I have fun.

Marc Flailing About

John and I had such a blast. He was great volleying the tennis ball right at the net. I was great hitting the tennis ball over the 30 foot fence ... hitting the house 50 feet behind the tennis courts several times. I never did get their name to apologize to them.

Anyway, I finally found my groove and we volleyed back and forth. I slowly regained my nonexistent serve after all those years. And I didn’t even hit myself in the face again! Several times I did look rather ridiculous on the court, but I held my own. A couple balls whizzed past me while I swung at them like a mad man. John said I looked like a disabled goose flapping about.

I will play tennis again. No, not an official tennis match, but I had a blast just hitting the ball back and forth. I rediscovered I have a pretty mean back hand too. John was even impressed with that! Don’t expect me to know the difference between love, ace, and match point. Don’t expect me to wear matching Polo shirt and short sets saying, “Thanks Buffy, that was a smashing set!” I will play tennis, make a fool of myself, look ridiculous sometimes, and probably have a better time than most people.