Hit to the Girl

Years ago, on a bunch of Saturdays, I somehow found myself filling the last spot in a tennis game with a bunch of guys.

It was fun, in a different sort of way. I enjoyed the male banter, especially how they went at each other without fear of being rude. Never hurtful, but never afraid to tease about the stuff that I only find funny when I tease myself about it. Guys don't tend to be self-deprecating, except when they can do it on some other self's behalf. Not that I mean to generalize.

Of course, there was the girl watching. The favorite was Pocahontas, the woman a few courts down. Not Pocahontas in the derogatory sense that has become so familiar these days, but in the dumb, star-struck kind of way that men admire a goddess from afar. Tall and tan and fit, with smooth and shiny jet black hair that didn't seem to frizz with sweat. She seemed goddess-like to me as well, from afar. I was kind of disappointed when I met her. It's not that she wasn't tall and tan and fit, with smooth and shiny jet black hair that didn't seem to frizz. She was pretty but mortal, supremely ordinary when she spoke. I always hoped the fantasy lived on a bit longer for the guys.

I ran into one of the guys the other day, and we had fun catching up. About the group, about what everybody is up to. He still plays, although some of the old guard has been replaced. I played on those courts just the other day, and was surprised to learn that some of the young women playing nearby were the daughters of women I used to play with, now with children of their own. I reminisced about how I was one of them, years ago. A minute ago, or so it seems. I remembered what it felt like to transform myself from mom to amateur athlete for an hour or two, how satisfying it was.  My version of a fantasy. George Cloo

ney could have been on the next court, and I wouldn't have noticed. Okay, well maybe just a peek.

Hit to the girl. My old friend told me that's what one of the guys used to say when I was on the other side of the net. Funny. I would have looked at it differently, hit to the one most likely to give me a run for my money, whether it was the girl or the boy. Even if it meant I would lose the point. After all, it's just a game., isn't it? 

It's Saturday morning now, and in a few hours the guys will be on the court. My friend said he's going to tell the other guy that he ran into "the girl." As I recall, that guy -- the one who said hit to the girl --he's the one who had no daughters, only sons.