The professionally done sign in the lobby of Ariel Dunes 2 indicated a daily round robin at the Destin Tennis Club. Named a Best Of in 2015. 9-11 am, $20 bucks. To play on the green Florida clay was well worth it. Perhaps some local players, similar to my tennis pals on Texas. They would surely welcome me into the group for the 4 mornings I would play. Monday through Thursday. Unexpected, but had my gear and my annual month long tennis hiatus was done. Back to it on the clay, work out the physical, the mental, and the anger. Peaceful is the only way to play, it is true. After a very beachy, boozy Sunday, followed by an outstanding Pontchartrain dish at Acme Oyster Bar, somehow awoke 30 minutes prior to the Monday morning event. Got ready quick, out the door, and at the pro shop at 10 til. Ready for these Florida dudes. Ready to demonstrate Isner trained superiority, lone star grit, and Vantaggioian attitude. It was going to be a smashing.
The small pro shop was tidy. It fronted the community pool, which was full of about 15 mature ladies doing water aerobics. They were in a circle, all seemed to know the routine. How nice, I thought. Palm Trees, Crape Myrtles, and other greenery was everywhere. Oh, to be a 'resident', an actual 'resident'. They probably had names for people who weren't 'residents'. Out Of Towner Downers or Beach Buttholes or Yank Danks. Signs were everywhere. 'Residents' this, 'residents' that. I felt irritated as I walked in the shop. Ready to take it to 'em. Hopefully, I would play a 'resident'. The nice assistant pro, Holly, greeted me with a fine simile and active demeanor. Paid up for the round robin and she introduced me to Guido, who was making out a check. A nice fella in his 70s, he had a wide smile and a fabulous Italian accent. Holly sent us to the back courts where everyone would collect and warm up. Behind the pool, the back courts were merely 100 feet away.
The complex has 8 very well maintained clay courts, ice water jugs, rakes, and shaded benches. Guido got in his car and drove to the back courts. We met at the spectator benches on the outside of the fenced in double court. The clay was smooth, soft, and perfect. Let the sliding begin! Chatted with Guido for awhile. Got a new knee a year and a half ago, now the other one hurts. He only plays doubles. Kept watching his watch, bringing up how Bob was supposed to come, and a few others. Spoke of this guy who was 85. Rides his bike to play sometimes. Always moving, never stopping. Guido himself talked fast, with huge laughs in between and suspect listening. He was a Steelers fan. He said he didn't remember the bullshit Benny Barnes interference call in Super Bowl XIII, but he was lying. Told him we owed them one more, reminding him of the Emmitt Cowboys revenge. He laughed, even doubled over, before looking at his watch again in worry. It was 10 after now, no one was coming. Had this ever happened, I inquired. He laughed again, this time with a melancholy tone. Sometimes they have 5 or 6 he said, usually Mondays were good. He didn't know. He had just talked to Bob a couple of days prior and he told him he would see him Monday. That meant that he should be here. But he wasn't. I offered to hit around with him, but he was insistent that he could only play doubles. He pointed to his very tan left knee. The vertical scar was a foot long. He had to go prepare to go to the beach. "No tennis, beach day.", he said in his Italian sound, "Maybe I see you Wednesday, eh?". Absolutely. Hope so, Guido.
What was left was drills and serves. Alone, on these perfect courts. Towels, water, 2 fresh cans, white bandana, and the classic Australian Blue Vantaggio grey T-shirt. Addidas Bounce fit just right, ready for the dirt. Babalot raquet. the kind Nadal plays with . After two laps, 10 pushups, and 20 squats, set up the Isner drill. 3 balls, spaced equally on both sides of singles lines, 6 total. One on the baseline, one on the service line, one by the net. Starting from the middle of the base line, each ball is retrieved and returned to the starting point. One at a time, from the baseline to the net, left, then right. It is exhausting, and a very good footwork drill. I slid, I dug. Then some serves, then a drill, then some serves, drill, pushups, squats, then some serves. Sweat was pouring, water was guzzled, shade was sought. This went on for 2 hours. The clay marks told the story. My serve on the Vantaggio Side, the advantage side, needed to be over to the right and deeper. In general, work your opponent's backhand, especially with the serve.
It was a good workout. Shed my soaked shirt and headband and, like Nadal would, put on a dry shirt before leaving the court. Checked in at the pro shop and Holly assured me to show up the next day and my fee would be covered. No one was around, the pool was now empty. It was only 11 o'clock. It's a beach day for me too, Guido. Far from the Grand Slams, the Tennis Channel, the endorsement contracts, and the incredible Williams sisters, tennis is dying. No-showed in Florida. And it is sad.
**word is Keck is meeting with Jimmy Connors to discuss an invitation to KOtC11. Perhaps at TBar M in Dallas. Negotiations are on-going...
