Part II:
Really, as hard as it may be to believe given my posts so far on this blog, I’m really quite calm on the tennis court. These are really the only three times, in my 400? (600? 1000+?) matches, that I’ve lost my composure. In any event, as the conclusion to this story will make clear, this is ultimately – to me, at least – one of the funniest things that’s happened to me in the past year or two.
So last year my Men’s 55-and-over 4.0 team won our league tournament, ensuring us a place in the September 2023 regional tournament, in which teams from Northern Arizona, El Paso, Albuquerque, and Phoenix would participate. I was, as the tournament (in Tucson!) rolled around, in a deep funk with my tennis (see my earlier “The Better Angels Take the Day Off” post). Indeed, I had just the week before bottomed out at another tournament in Irvine, California, and I had already decided to put down my rackets and take a couple months off once this tournament ended. I was not playing well.
At this regional USTA tournament a teammate and I lost our first match fairly quickly, and I was teamed up with my friend Jim for the second match against a pair of players from El Paso. As it was one of the last matches of the day darkness was falling, and a small crowd of the El Paso team's friends and family had gathered behind the fence to watch the match. Although we fell behind quickly 0-3, we fought back, and eventually – to nobody’s surprise more than my own – forced the first set into a tiebreaker.
At 2-3 in that seven-point tiebreaker, one of our opponents mishit a lob, which floated really high, then landed about an inch or two wide of the sideline. I casually said “out” and caught the ball on the bounce, and nobody protested.
At first.
Then, from behind the fence, a voice spoke up. The USTA official – we’ll call her “June” – had come over to watch, and from behind me she overruled my call. This was, if anything a more egregious overstepping than Stan’s call described in the last post, as hers came from behind me, and from behind a fence! (I was told later by a friend that USTA rules expressly prohibit officials from overruling calls from the other side of a fence, though I have no independent verification of that). Let me note that, while I am convinced my call against Bob I described yesterday was correct, I am willing to allow the possibility that I got it wrong (though that still wouldn’t justify Stan’s involvement). This one, however, I still have in my mind’s eye as clearly out, and both my opponents and, later, one of their wives (the wife of one of them, that is), who was watching from right next to June from behind the fence, told me later they thought it was out as well, and were equally surprised when June decided to step in.
I couldn’t believe my luck. I literally don’t know anyone this has ever happened to even once … and it had just happened to me a second time.
Again, I lost my composure. “You have got to be kidding me!” I yelled. “You cannot do that!” Like Stan in the earlier match, June was unmoved. I whirled back away from her in anger, ripped the hat off my head, and threw it at the net in frustration. (“That’ll show her!”).
The reason I tell this story is what came next. Jim, my teammate, ambled over to me. “Dave, Dave, it’s all right,” he said, calmly. “Let it go! It’s ok. It doesn’t matter, come on.”
I allowed myself to be mollified, but, adrenaline coursing through my veins, I tried to hit the next few balls that came my way harder than any human being had ever hit tennis balls before –obviously missing them both. Jim and I ended up losing the tiebreaker, and then the next set and the match.
Jim, as is his wont, was sanguine and calm about it all. It was only a few weeks later over beers, as we recalled the match, that he discovered what I was really angry about. It turned out that he hadn’t realized at the time that the person behind us who overruled my call was a USTA official. He had thought it was just one of the spectators – a stranger to us – who had been voicing her opinion about my call (“that ball was in”). From his perspective, I responded to this unimportant stranger’s call unexpectedly, overreacting dramatically to a conflicting opinion voiced from behind the fence.
I tell this story because, at least once a month since, I find myself in bed replaying the events, and literally chuckling out loud. I love trying to imagine the conversation going on in Jim’s head. “Gee, David seems to be taking that woman’s opinion awfully seriously. That's weird." Trying to make sense of that weirdly personal and offended reaction he was witnessing. He must have thought I was extremely sensitive to having my opinions challenged.
I wish I had known of his misunderstanding at the time. It might have broken me up so much I could have refocused on the tennis, instead of on my frustration.
Still, be warned. If anybody suggests that my opinion is incorrect, I will lose all control, scream, and throw my hat!
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