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A remark about the fast disappearing true, blue blood tennis player. He stubbornly insists that the ultimate distinction of the game is reserved for gentlemen. Tennis to him remains a LIFE-STYLE that sets true tennis players apart from the rest.
He never, but NEVER swears aloud; or even worse (God forbid!), crosses to the opponent's side to check a decision. He never flails his racket threateningly as if a swarm of bees had attacked him. He never challenges even an apparently erroneous decision unless an Eagle Eye facility is provided. And then with an apologetic face!
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Too often now, regretfully, he spots a wannado player in boxer shorts below a hairy chest, shining with sweat, who, spitting generously, is screaming his head off and startling players in six courts around him; as if his house was on fire. The boor is simply protesting his lack of talent and basic good manners, topping off his outburst by slamming his racket onto the nearest metal pole.
Pity him. He is in a dire need of a couch and someone to share his personal frustrations. Unless he takes to heart admonishments to behave or change the sport he should face a mission of true tennis lovers who will dig in their heels and tell him to stop putting a blemish on our irresistibly enticing, admirably beautiful sporting way of life!.
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What's tennis?
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by Ivan Stevanovic
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