I am not what you might label an athlete. While I was in High School, I did twirl, two batons, thank you, as a Majorette/twirler with the Marching Band. I never dropped the batons during a game or a parade, could spin and flip like Lyndhurst's first Golden Girl(she twirled with fire). I danced from the age of three until, let's see...yesterday. I power walk, well actually, that's through the Mall, or down Fifth Avenue during "hot" sales en route to the Elizabeth Arden Salon. I can make any credit card smoke! It's all in the wrist. I learned to play tennis. I had gorgeous outfits, coordinating sneakers. I looked great and never broke a sweat. I played with my best friend Gail and she still is my friend (what does that tell you?). My Dad (undefeated in Wayne NJ even at 86 years old) would practice with me. He wasn't overly impressed with my performance, or my non-performance, at all! When we would play doubles, he told me to stay out of the way because I made him look bad. On our honeymoon, Steve and I would play. I was more of a poser, in Aruba, rather than a player. I'm sure you figured out that he just might have had a slight edge on me...didn't everyone? Take a close look at the episode of "Sex and the City" where Nathan Lane made an appearance. I played a party snob well and in another scene, I was on the tennis court in an amazing outfit!
Time passed.
I signed my Grandchildren up for tennis lessons. On the way to the tennis court, we would talk to Grandpa (my Dad) on the phone for pointers. Tanner, then four, liked the concept of tennis and the club tennis parties. Tess, then six, with a fantastically high ponytail and the ability of her grandmother (ah, me) was never sure if she was on the court or not. She was all about the parties as well. Todd, at seven, was good. I mean that boy could hit the ball in bounds with accuracy that could make Bad Boy McEnroe register for Tennis Camp! One day, after a lesson, the Pro distributed forms for an accelerated tennis team for Todd's age. Bouncing with every word, Todd told me that he wanted to sign up immediately! He wanted to be on the team! Faster than Annie Oakley could draw, I whipped out my pen, signed on all of the dotted and undotted lines and exclaimed, "Oh Todd! That's fantastic! We'll call Grandpa on our way home! Mommy will be proud", and so the party line went as we sang all of the way home.
And then...
"Okay, boys and girls, let's get into our teams." Day one of tennis practice. The children were divided into appropriate age groups for competition, etc. Todd's four man team, bouncing like the tennis balls that they were supposed to hit later, waited for organization to take shape. The structure was that the Pros oversaw the teams coached by two Dads/parents (to sound politically correct, but I was there) DADS each. A handsome, thirty-something man, Orlando, was Todd's coach. No one else volunteered. No Coaches = No Team. That is a perpetual formula, you know. Dave, the Pro and Orlando reassured the little team, "Don't worry, someone will volunteer." Todd bounced over to the two men, screeching gleefully, "I have a coach! She's been playing since she was a little girl! Meme (pronounced may-may) will coach! See? She's right there!" The little finger, much like Moses' staff, parted the Red Sea of tennis enthusiasts and landed on me! My father and Gail would have choked with that recommendation! Anyway, I very lamely (in Anne Klien shoes and Dana Buchman threads) stepped, rather crept up to the men and the pack of mighty-mights. "Uh, well, I don't want to step on toes. If you are desperate, I mean really desperate, I would gladly help out?" Dave said, "That's great, Laura! I don't believe we've ever had a grandmother coach our players! That is so great of you to step right up! Thank you!" Hm...step up? I more or less crawled. Orlando exclaimed, "Ah, Laura is it? It'll be an honor to work with you!" his daughter Christina and Todd did a little victory dance, the children cheered! There are grandmothers who wearing sweats and sneakers (please, I am not criticizing) who were at home making meatloaf. There I was, standing at Quail (sister club to Kettering Tennis Club)wondering "What happened here?" The children were told to give information to a secretary while the coaches had a meeting. The last "meeting" which I attended was at the Ballet Guild (planning a fund raiser) when Tess was a mouse in "The Nutcracker". I'm more the tea and scone type of meeting attendee. I was now ushered to tables with the "next stop - Wimbledon crowd". Ah-ha.
On the ride home, Todd was beside himself! "Meme! This is the best day ever! You're going to coach our team!" This from a child who electively listens to what I tell him to do. Wait 'till I tell everybody!" Yeah, Todd, you do that. My first order of business, after assisting friends and family off their respective floors triggered by laughing fits, was wardrobe. I found the most gorgeous outfits and bought a racquet (white) to go with everything. Face it, I hadn't played in ____years! My racquet was a little dated.
Practice sessions began on a regular basis. We drilled the children with basics, ran a little, chased balls a lot. Orlando and I had a system, I think. The children were hitting, they were accurate, some powerful. Some, not so much. I took the shy little girls and managed to level their swings (Oh! Listen to me! I sound so tennis-ish!) I even talked them into keeping their eyes on the ball, timing, bounce swing, du, try to aim for my thigh to bust cellulite, you have to serve like you mean it, we don't have waiters on when the children did well, pep talks and positive "wows, good ones and yikes," the matches were to begin. There were twenty-eight teams, give or take. During the "practice" weeks, I took adult "refresher" lessons. Dave was such a gentleman. He never commented on this non-pro's performance. Well, actually, not much of a performance, but I moved around a lot. He thought that if personality could win trophies (not Miss Congeniality...Tennis), I'd need a display case.
Orlando was factual, strong, patient, god at this. I was nice, encouraging, funny. My comments were a little quirky, but they kept the stress level down while we blitzed the court! At the end of the season, there was a party and free play. A hush fell over the assembly when awards were to be given when our placements were announced. Todd was edgy, Orlando and I were hoping for a decent showing. We emphasized that they did their best. Orlando and I, it was announced, coached the FOURTH PLACE team! Our little crew burst with screams of pride! The parents congratulated their treasures and us! One woman asked if I coach privately...it was a nice touch, she said , to have a grandmother on the courts with the little ones! Dave looked at me and winked. I declined. Between you and me, I probably could get you to Wimbledon, but I still can't play worth a _____!
On the way home, we called my Dad, I called Gail. Todd said that he was wrong before, "Meme! TODAY is the best day ever! We did it! You're the best tennis player ever!" I sighed, "Well Todd, YOU played tennis and YOU helped the team!" That little finger wiggled at me: "Meme, okay, then you're the best tennis coach ever!"
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