MY WIFE IS A LOSER. Or at least she is since she met me. (Which may explain why
we have grocery bags full of tennis trophies in our basement, very few of which have a
date of 1994 or beyond. This may be explained, in part, by the fact that her high
school boyfriend, and sometime tennis partner, was at one time ranked in tennis in the
state of Florida, while her current husband, and sometime tennis partner, is at times
rank in tennis in the state of North Carolina.
Here’s the current story on our dearth of up-to-date tennis trophies. Sandra and I
entered the Hollow Rock Club Championship last Saturday. There were to be two
divisions: 3.5 and below, and 4.0 and above. Since the both of us, according to the
United States Tennis Association (which ought to know), are benchmark 3.5 players,
we entered the 3.5 and below division — with aspirations to win. That is, we hoped to
show ourselves to be the top of the bottom, that is, right in the middle. Since I am, as
previously demonstrated in this space, “Hollow Rock’s Most Mediocre Player,” I felt
confident that I could uphold my part of the bargain.
Then our hopes collapsed along with the divisions. Due to low turnout, the two
divisions were smushed into one. This was not good. We would be competing with
actual tennis players.
I formulated a new hope: my next column would be entitled “Winners — in the Losers’
Bracket!” This journey would begin with a competitive match against a better team —
which we would lose — sending us into the losers’ bracket, where we win against a
series of measly teams who couldn’t even make it out of the first round.
We prepared, as any dedicated tennis team would, by going on a diet, starting the
night before, then heading out in the morning to Reno Sharpe’s Store in the greater
Goldston area of southwest Chatham County to a bluegrass jam. (If you don’t believe
me, go to YouTube and search for “Reno Sharpe” to see a jerky video of “I Wonder
Where You Are Tonight,” which Sandra recorded while I was putting our instruments in
the car. Since this is a country song, and we aren’t pictured in the video, what it will
prove, I don’t know — but we were there.)
We returned to Hollow Rock just in time for the tournament, as our first-round
opponents were announced. “Oh, no, not Molly and Noah’s dad!”
Molly Beachum, despite being cute, athletic and politically correct, is mistake prone —
making at least one unforced error every year. Noah’s dad is, well, Noah’s dad. In
2007 Noah Constantine was, for example, the runner-up in the age 11 and under
division of the North Carolina Junior State Closed Championships. How good is his
dad? Mark says he can still beat Noah.
Our fears were well founded. First set, 6-0, Constantine and Beachum. Then, our
nefarious strategy took hold — they went to sleep. Next thing you know our wind-
blown lobs were dropping in and it was 5-5 — and they were sweating more than we
were. But reality snuck back on the court and we lost 7-5. We were in the vaunted
losers’ bracket.
Our next-round opponents were the Irish Terry O’Regan and the English Jenny
Rousseau. As usual it took me a while to figure out that Jenny was left-handed. (You
would think it would be sign enough when she hit the first ball in warm-ups with the
racquet in her left hand. Not for me.)
Early on Mr. O’Regan made some unforced errors and got ticked off at himself. Being
the opportunists that we are, we took his discontent with his game as a personal
affront, stayed motivated and won 6-1 and 6-3.
So, to the championship match, in the losers’ bracket, pitted against Sue Long and
Steve Kennedy. Sue is steady, trading shots with you until you make a mistake. Steve
is more of winners-or-losers kind of player. Give him a shot to work with and he blasts
it, and either he wins or he loses. Usually he wins.
The match started evenly, especially because Steve was making more than his usual
share of errors. Then things turned. Steve’s regular partner, Johanna, showed up to
watch the match. Just as you would expect, he started focusing better and we started
losing more. We lost the first set 4-6. Then opportunity rang — in the form of
Johanna’s cell phone. She walked off to take the call. Steve quickly lapsed again into
double-faults and unforced errors.
We were on our way to winning the second set and into third-set tiebreaker, when
Johanna showed back up. It was over for us, 4-6 again. So, there we were: losers —
in the losers’ bracket.
Gary D. Gaddy, part of five league championship tennis teams in the past five seasons,
has no trophies to show for any of them
A version of this story was published in the Chapel Hill Herald on Thursday November
20, 2008.
Copyright 2008 Gary D. Gaddy
garygaddy.com 