The Great Rob

One of my favourite things in the world, if not my most favourite thing in the world, is playing tennis. Lately, like the last few years, Ive been losing a lot more than Ive been winning. My most memorable game was losing 6-4, 6-4 to a man about to get his hip replaced. Fa real. No matter. I just like being on the courts, hitting balls and, when youre hitting the ball right, hearing the different sounds made by your racket striking the ball: the sharp, clean whoosh of a forehand, the soft pluck, the bottle top pop, of a backhand slice (my favourite shot).

One of my favourite people to play tennis with is my friend Rob. One one of my most favourite people is my friend Rob. I havent seen him in a long while and we havent played tennis in a long time but we became friends cause of tennis. We started playing years and years ago and some of my best memories about living in Victoria was playing tennis with him. We'd meet after class and hit the courts or he'd pick me up early Saturday mornings, like 7am, to hit some balls. So it's only natural that one of the first things weve done since my return is to hit the courts.

The weather was perfect even if our games werent. Rob said he hadnt played very much except a few times last summer. With a 13 yr old girl. (His boss' daughter.) Ever generous, Rob told me that while she had talent, she didnt have my cross court forehand. Playing after a long break is strange. You gotta grease your joints and hinges, get a feel of the racket, a feel of the ball and figure out your striking range. It's even stranger when youre playing with someone you used to play with a lot but havent played with at all in a long, long time. You have some recollection of their game and how you played but, of course, things have changed over the years. You know their game but you dont. Their game is familiar and new. It's coming on 5 years since Rob and I played.

Rob's serve, I can report from the frontlines, is monstrous. Like a real tennis player, he's got a first and a second serve. The first serves are heavy and flat and come at a rapid pace. The second serves, when needed, are solid and reliable. I can also report that a serve, a real first serve, is not something Ive gained the past few years. My serves are still glacial and precious. We were both pretty creaky and stiff from the lack of play, either drilling balls into the net or spraying them wide and long. There were lots of mis-hits. It's telling that we warmed up for more than an hour and played a set that took about 40 minutes to complete.

But what a great set. More winners than errors and each of us holding our own serve except for one crucial break that gave me the set and the match at 7-5.

This is the beginning or, rather, the resurrection of our friendly rivalry.

(Oh ya. The pictures. See, in my mind, I thought Id get some shots of us on the court but, uhm, I got as far as Rob getting his wallet outta the car and then paying for the tennis balls. But trust: it was an edge-of-your-seat exciting game.)