like to tell you about my most recent trip to Sin City, a short
while ago. Sin City is my pet name for Las Vegas, Nevada, where
my daughter Kylene now lives. My wife and I miss her, so every
now and then Linda and I have to go out there to get a daughter
fix. On this trip my mother came along, tooshe needed
a granddaughter fix.
We decided to stay at the Las Vegas Hilton. They take pretty
good care of us, and we also like the tennis pro who works there.
His name is Marty Hennessy, and he is one of those few pros
who really give you your moneys worth of instruction.
My tennis skills had fallen into pretty bad shape, so I really
needed a Marty fix. And I do mean fix.
some openings in his busy schedule, and Linda and I had our
first lesson on the Monday morning after our Saturday-night
arrival. Even before the lesson was over I could hardly wait
to get back to Santa Fe to take on my regular tennis buddies.
Four of us frequently play doubles on Wednesday afternoons.
It's a round-robin affair, and yet no matter who my partner
has been, I have lost most of my matches.
weren't returning to Santa Fe until Wednesday evening, I knew
I would not be able to show off my newfound skills until a full
week later. The thought that I might forget all that Marty had
taught me sent me back for a second lesson on Tuesday.
to skip my usual morning walk beforehand, because I did not
want to have tired legs for my lesson. Over the years, I have
learned that my legs always feel like rubber when Marty is finished
with me. Linda, on the other hand, is in such good shape that
she could probably take lessons all day long, and then run a
At 9 a.m. Marty met us on the tennis court with his usual pleasant
smile. He is 52 and in better shape than 98 percent of the 18-year-olds.
Well, in comparison with both him and my wife, I really look
bad on the tennis court, not only in skill, but also in appearance.
But hey, I am what I amand my reason for being there that
morning was only to get better.
out with some stretches. Then Marty got on one side of the court,
with a big basket of balls, and Linda and I got on the other
side. Marty hit balls at us in turn, and pointed out things
that we each needed to correct. In my case it seemed that almost
everything could use some help. But just before frustration
reared its ugly head, Marty as usual provided solutions to my
problems. By the end of the lesson, I felt invincible.
happy, I went back to our room with Linda. I asked what she
thought of the lesson, and she said it had helped her a lot.
Feeling cocky, I did not want to wait more than a week to show
off my new skills, so I challenged Linda to play the next morning.
She agreed, and I was glad. Like my other tennis buddies she
had not been treating me very well on the court lately, and
this would be my chance for revenge.
goeth before a falland this time was no exception. We
hit the courts at 9 oclock, with me frothing at the mouth
in anticipation of my coming victory. Let the games begin!
I thought. Dragging myself off after they ended, I was back
in my place. I had forgotten to consider that all the time my
own skills were getting better under Martys tutelage,
so were Lindas. And she was better than I before we took
Yes, Linda is pretty darn good, no doubt about it. Yet Im
still eager to take on my Wednesday buddies. Surely I can now
Have a great