I remember when I was a teenager, someone invited me to go play tennis with them. Oh, sorry I said, I was busy on Thursday. I was going to the beach. The truth was, I didn't have a tennis outfit. I didn't have the necessary, little short white skirt, never mind the shoes and tennis racquet. Guys, in those days, were expected to wear the white shorts, and the tennis sweater. Truth be told, I never played tennis in my life. Oh, I wanted to play tennis. All the cutsie cheer leader types, they played tennis, but not me.
I was tall, gawky, and oh, so unfashionable. Thats why I started to notice with more frequency, that tennis outfits, as well as the sterotype of the tennis player, has certainly changed. My very large, unshaven, unkempt neighbor was in the elevator last week with his tennis raquet.
Still didn't shave, still got the belly, had on thong sandals, cut off blue jeans and holey T-shirt and was headed out to play tennis. If he could stop smoking long enough. I must admit though, it was a fine looking racquet. I don't consider myself an observant person, even though I try to be, but what planet have I been on, that I missed all this? When did we trade in the little short white skirt , or shorts, for cut off jeans and T-shirt, circa 1977?
So, out of curiosity, and research for this article, I decided to take a walk past the tennis courts in the park. Well, it wasn't as clean and pristine as I remembered. I was glad my neighbor wasn't there. I Didn't want him to think, I was stalking him, but thats another article, isn't it? So there they were, two, very old, did I say very, very, old ladies, bless their hearts, trying to play tennis. Having trouble, even getting the ball over the net. It was amusing to say the least. I pretended I was reading, so as not to just stare. Mental note to self: I'm laughing with them, not at them.
Once when two attempts at a serve failed, the one in the little flowered dress, just bent over, grabbed the ball and threw it over the net, over the protests of the other lady in a green jogging suit. Oh, they're so cute. I just have to go speak to them. Turns out they are Wilma, and Velma. Sisters! I couldn't get an exact age, but Velma said Wilma was old enough to know better, than to throw the ball over the net.
So with that, an argument ensued, and I discreetly slipped away. I felt good on the way home. Yeh, no more mandatory outfits, wear your cut off jeans, and holy T-shirt. Wear your little flowered dress, or green jogging suit. You don't even have to shave. Just get out there and have fun. Tennis has finally come home.
