Tennis Anyone?

     Here's why I gave up tennis several decades ago, after spending many hours on the court throughout high school, college and thereafter. But one day, early 80's, I was on a court in Santa Monica, California, waiting for my partner to join me in a game. He was stuck in traffic downtown Los Angeles and I would just have to wait.
     The tennis court was right near my hotel and had a beautiful green clay surface. Nobody else was around. Then, suddenly, this elderly lady appeared with a 1920 style racquet. You know, wooden frame and gut strings. I suspect she was in her 70's. She was dressed in an outfit that suggested the MGM Chorus in 1934.
     The woman kind of mumbled her introduction to me and asked if we could hit a few balls. I explained that I was waiting for my partner to arrive. Actually, I was worried she might have a heart attack and I would end up giving her CPR until the ambulance arrived. Nevertheless, I said we could volley until my friend, Roger, arrived and she agreed.
     Back and forth we hit the ball. I was careful to return only soft lobs close to her. She did the same to me. Then this feisty lady said we should play one set of tennis because it was getting close to her nap time. Secretly, I was wondering when in the world Roger would show up. No sign at all of his car arriving in the nearby parking lot.
     I served first. Again, a soft lob across the net into her square. She deftly sent it back with a lot of spin out of my reach. Wow. Nice shot, I yelled to her. She smiled and crouched for my next serve with the score Love 15. I lost the first game at Love 45.
     The lady served the second game and had a side spin on the ball that landed in my square and then ran away from my racquet before I could hit it. Hmmmmmm. This woman has tricks. I better rise up to her level and present some competition to her style, whatever it was. So I tried to play my best.
     Back and forth we went. I was now down by four games. I hadn't won a single point! I couldn't beat her! She was twice my age and I began to feel rotten, beaten by a grandmother who had a tennis racquet probably used by Bill Tilden in the 30's.
     Finally, I was exhausted, losing 6 Love, and Roger had arrived, quietly watching my last game of the set as I was being run ragged back and forth from one side of the court to the other. My opponent had turned into a killer player who beat the crap out of me.
     Roger came over, introduced himself to her, Helen Wills Moody, who was Wimbolden champion nine times way back when. I was humbled, full of apologies and sweating profusely. Roger agreed to forget our tennis game and he offered to pay for lunch.
     We said goodbye to Helen and walked to a nearby restaurant. By the way, the tennis court was hers, not the hotel. I had both feet in my mouth. That's why I quit tennis.