IN RESPONSE TO MY RECENT COLUMN about tennis, I received a slew of e-mails (OK, three). One reader suggested I resume playing, “Use it or lose it.” A second, who’s seen me play advised,“Quitting was the right move.” And the third said she misses my McBush bashing. To reader No.1: I’ve already lost it. No. 2: Mind your own business. And No. 3: Stick around.
The reaction at the tennis courts was basically, “Why didn’t you write about us, we’re as eccentric as Lionel?” It’s true. The colorful characters at Ocean View, as my buddy, Michael, once mused is reminiscent of Saroyan’s Pulitzer winning play “The Time of Your Life.”
I would write about the Beijing Olympics, which open today, but I have mixed feelings. China is a brutal, totalitarian regime. But Kobe’s playing! I could write about the Brett Favre fiasco or Manny Ramirez’s meteoric start with the Dodgers. Is Manny meshugenah or the messiah?
I could also write about John McCain’s frivolous TV ad featuring Obama with Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. Paris now calls McCain “the wrinkly, white-haired dude.” Poor John. The McCain of 2000 would never vote for the McCain of 2008. Realistically, after eight years of an oilman president, can we possibly afford four more?
I’ve decided to write about the Ocean View tennis courts, which are directly below my window (convenient when I took up tennis, a nightmare during construction). In 1987, when the courts finally opened, my wife thought learning to play tennis would be ideal. Our best friends played and they had a great marriage.
Unfortunately, our friends got divorced and so did we. Ironically, our divorce was partially due to tennis. When my ex filed she could have named tennis as the co-respondent. I was at Ocean View so much the city offered me a job. Years later they fired me for playing instead of working. Was that in the manual?
Among the celebrities who have played at Ocean View are: Jimmy Connors, Wilt Chamberlain, (I won every set we played) Billie Jean King and Pete Sampras, who was dating Kimberly Williams who lived nearby. Jennifer Capriatti worked out there for a week, and fell in love with Oscar, my golden retriever buddy. And Pam Shriver played there frequently.
Once Pam phoned to invite me to hit with her. “I’m not quite as good as your regular partners, ” I said with false modesty.
“Oh, I know that,” she said matter-of-factly.
The courts are so beautiful passerby’s assume they belong to the Sea Colony. I find there are two categories of players, during the week (tennis is their life) and weekenders (tennis may only be a small part). The former are more colorful.Among this group are brothers Mike and Neal who often bring their elderly mother, Paula, to watch. Their form is unconventional but both are remarkable players and teachers.
Rob, a patent agent with the body of a fitness model, plays so much I joke it’s too bad he’s not in shape. He often hits with Todd, whose occupation is a mystery to all, and who never misses a shot unless a helicopter’s hovering.
He’s at war with noise from low-flying aircraft. Todd often hits with Scott, another top player, who is rumored not to have worked since Carter’s presidency. And there’s Andy, a married surgeon with two pre-school daughters and a puppy, and who performs a bypass almost daily.
The staff includes pretty Patricia, Ocean View’s answer to J.Lo. Russ, nearing 60, is an amazing athlete but his mantra is, “There’s nothing I can do about it now.” If he’s given your court away by mistake, this can be slightly exasperating. And Lou, 82, who gives tennis tips to players whether they want them or not. Worse, his tips are usually correct.
With the ocean and palm trees as a backdrop, the Ocean View curtain rises early in the morning. Players arrive, racquets in hand, many from different social and economic backgrounds, but all passionate about tennis. Many hours later, as the sun dips into the pacific, the theater, uh, tennis courts, close and the players exit stage right. You sure this is how Shakespeare got started? I kinda doubt it.
Closing thoughts: So far Manny’s been more messiah than meshugenah (Fingers crossed). To discourage 8 a.m. noise at Ocean View, my neighbor Beverly insists I mention that parking is impossible. And lastly, the war in Iraq will ultimately cost U.S. taxpayers $3 trillion (plus untold lives and injuries) but a KFC opened in Fallujah! In Pulitzer Prize winning author Ron Suskind’s latest book, “The Way of the World,” there’s strong evidence that Bush knew there were no WMD’s in Iraq. Well, at least now there’s a KFC.
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on August 8, 2008. Read the original PDF.