Posts Tagged ‘tennis balls’

Tennis?

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June 4th, 2011 Posted 8:32 am

“Anyone out there care about tennis, do you think?” says Admin.

I sure do, if we’re talking tennis balls. Plus I even took a lesson once, sort of. Isn’t that in Thereby Hangs A Tail?

“Because,” Admin goes on, “we’re in a golden era of men’s tennis, with three amazing players at the top. Yesterday’s French Open semifinal between Federer and Djokovic was a classic, and tomorrow’s Nadal-Federer final should be great. It’s at nine AM. Don’t miss it.”

“But aren’t you playing doubles in that heart-fund charity tournament at nine tomorrow?” says Spence.

“Yeah.”

“So you yourself will be missing this thing you said not to miss.”

“Your point?”

“Got a strong partner?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Uh-oh. They’re not getting along.

Welcome Yo Yo.

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Mary Carillo

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February 9th, 2011 Posted 8:45 am

“This is good news,” Bernie says. “Mary Carillo’s co-hosting the Westminster Dog Show next week. She just happens to be my favorite tennis commentator.”

I open my eyes. What’s this? Tennis? Several balls are within easy reach, the nearest under the couch. I dig it out, drop it at Bernie’s feet. He doesn’t seem to notice. I pick it up, drop it at his feet again. No reaction. I try again, this time dropping it on his foot.

“Chet? Want to play fetch? Is that it?”

Huh? I thought he did. But no matter. The next moment we’re playing indoor fetch, a fun game that never got played during the Leda days. Crash, bang, zoom. What a life!

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Fetch

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January 27th, 2010 Posted 8:05 am

Can’t beat fetch. We always play till Bernie says his arm is falling off, and then a little more. Here are my favorite balls, in order.

Lacrosse – bounces in a crazy way I like, and chewing on it – wow!

Tennis – especially fresh ones, right out of the can.

Baseball – lots going on inside these babies!

Golf – on the small side, but excellent for chewing.

Football – strange bounces, and you have to get hold of it at the end, but lots of fun.

Basketball – impossible till you bite through it. Then it softens up nicely to something manageable.

Are there any other balls I’m leaving out? Maybe, but we’re on a case, something about Colonel Bob’s son. First comes breakfast. Bernie says it’s the most important meal of the day, but the truth is they’re all very very important.

card

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Tennis Lesson (From Thereby Hangs A Tail)

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January 21st, 2010 Posted 9:09 am

The tall blond guy took a ball from the bucket and hit it to Ganz. Ganz wore white shorts, had skinny legs like sticks. He swung his racquet and hit the ball back. The tall guy let it go by, took out another ball. “Brush up, Shermie, brush up. Spin on the ball, always spin on the ball.” He hit the ball over the net. Ganz swung, this time missing the ball completely. “Brush up but through, up but  through, up but through,” said the tall guy, sending over another ball. Brush? I knew brushes, saw none around. Maybe tennis was tougher than it looked, but I didn’t worry about that because a ball came bouncing over in our direction – we were now beside the court – and I snatched it out of the air, and who wouldn’t have, the ball being right there practically saying, “Catch me.” And then – this part was a bit harder to understand – I was on the court, racing toward the net. Up and over: not much of a challenge, tennis nets turning out not to be very high, but still it felt so great, being airborne and all, that I kind of twisted around still up there, if you see what I mean, and landed facing back at the net, and the next thing I knew I was jumping over it again, from the other direction, and, yes! doing the spin move once more, and when I landed this time, somehow with two balls in my mouth now – how had that happened? – I –

“Chet!”

From Admin – for all those who requested Little Detective Agency business cards (see January 16 post) the process for getting them to you has started. Anyone who doesn’t have one in say, 10 days or so, please get back to spence.quinn@gmail.com. Same email for new requesters.

Also, at Friends of Chet: some great new photos.

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The Books



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