The Moose Tennis Memo - Whatta a Day!

Jason

Wow! We dodged the rain.

And, it was three-and-a-half hours of tennis during the-dead-of-winter. Who can complain? Not me.

I don't know if some distant planet aligned with some other distant planet, the Tennis Gods got together or all involved took some sort of tennis energy pills, but today was a cornucopia of aggressive points, and ill-delivered and well placed shots. Everyone was victim and all, the perpetrators.

Yet, it was fun. The jeers and trash talk flowed from the mouths of babes (no, not really). It got ugly? No, but I did find myself, in jeopardy, throwing a little verbal something at Roget (French for Roger) to throw him off, knowing, if I did so persistently, I would pay.

I did pay, but not to the extent of a loss. You have to love Roger. Well, you don't have to. Ami (his reluctant wife), reminded me.

Mack, on the Injured Reserve list, somehow, couldn't stay off the courts. I told all my partners to hit to his right, toward the calf (No, PETA. His lower rear leg muscle) he injured last week. I have no shame when things get heated. We (most) get resourceful during times of deficiency and Mack had some of the best placed shots I have ever seen. He'll forget those as soon as he recovers. I'm hoping.

Vera (now named, Fyra) was on fire. She usually is. If Fyra began playing tennis a few weeks ago, which I know she didn't, she watched a lot of tennis growing up. No, seriously, Fyra is a smart player, resourceful, and her backstroke and shot preparation are not always indicative of where she is taking the ball. She also has that beautiful hair most male lions spend nights dreaming of. Sleepless nights.

Ami - what need be said? Wait. I came up with nothing. You? Always energetic, competitive and gracious.

By the way, Ami and Rogers' daughter is playing tennis at Lander University - not a bad choice for athletics and academics, as if my opinion matters. I have ties to Lander, not to be discussed.

Well, Ed and I simply did our thing, while the rest, tried their best. We are the wallflowers wielding lethal rackets - Shakespeare.

At the gym (MUV), the other day, I ran in to Mack, acting as if he was working out. Nonetheless, he told me Harry may be returning to play, if so, in some protective head gear. You have to love this guy, not Mack, but Harry. We all want to have Harry and Joni back out here along with their tennis play and sense of spirit.

Thank you for today, herd. It was great.

LeAnn, even in her absence, chimed in about bathing her granddaughter. Wait, sorry. It was a baby shower for her expecting daughter. It's difficult putting all these events together. She was missed.

What? What? No, not LeAnn. (Sorry, I'm hearing things - strange voices.)

I'll see you and all who want to come enjoy Tennis, particularly Moose Tennis, this coming Saturday at Trenholm Park, at 9:30a.m.

We are all mostly well-based, grounded, fun-loving people, but perhaps, at heart, we are all, simply gypsies. Food for thought. Perhaps not, but this wonderful song came on while I was writing. You know it. Whatever.