Thoughts about Tennis Tradition...

[don_budge]

Thoughts About Tennis Tradition...


Listen to Gary Player talking about technology in the game of golf. It's a little like listening to don_budge. Thirty-five years ago I was talking about technology ruining the game of tennis and they couldn't imagine it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GweMaI6bmvI

What he says makes a whole lot of sense. He is only telling the truth.

[don_budge]

Thoughts about Tennis and Golf Tradition...

Tennis and golf are God's gift to mankind in terms of recreation. Both of these games tests the human being on every level of their humanness. Intellectually, physically, psychologically, emotionally...and even spiritually. The two are related if not distant cousins in the world of recreation. Spawn from the same creator it might seems on some level. Both games are games of shots and the metaphysics of the shot don't change over time. The fundamentals will always be the same. In today's modern times and times of professional sports much has been cast aside in the name of progress. Much as it happens in real life. These games metaphorically match the times with their mere existence. Adapting as to stay relevant. Like the human counterpart...it's the condition under which they are always played.

I like to look admiringly at the past at these games. At the competitors and the conditions under which these games were contested. Years ago...things were different as it was a different world in which we played. I remember playing tennis as a boy and a young man. Growing up with the great game of tennis at my side. No matter what the conditions...my trusty game was always there. But as in life...things change and so did tennis. Something was lost where most thought something was gained. It's the nature of life too...where the masses might see progress there are those that might hold out for something else. The less obvious. The spiritual.

Here is a video about one of golf's greatest competitors. Ben Hogan...the video is titles "Bantam Ben". Take a look at it. You don't have to be a golfer to appreciate the message. Much as you don't need to be a tennis player to appreciate a story about a character named Richard Gonzales. Ben Hogan is what you would call the ultimate "Game Guy". What is a "Game Guy"? Look it up in the dictionary and you will find the pictures of the likes of Hogan and Gonzales.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulYyosFu0ac

Last year I traveled to the United States of America twice. The country that I called home for the first fifty years of my life. I hadn't been home for twelve years and returning felt like a past life experience. I was reading "The Razor's Edge" on the plane home and finishing the final chapter in which the main character is describing the effect upon his life where he had spent some years isolated with Hindu swami's in India. Sitting next to me on the plane was an Indian man who just happened to be exactly the same number of years as I. He also happened to be a doctor/surgeon..and of course he was a Hindu too. He noticed the book that I was reading and we engaged in some conversation...he spoke to me of reincarnation and good and evil. How time works it's magic on the soul. I landed in America and I was caught in a delicious hallucination. A hallucination that included my own personal stuff and it was including the campaign for the Presidency between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. America's soul was being split in two...divided equally into two angry sides.

I saw family and friends that I hadn't seen for twelve years. I found myself swirling in a culture that seemed to be traveling at the speed of light compared to that of the Swedish culture that I have found myself adopted by. The freeways were churning and the businesses and restaurants were cha-chinging around the clock it seemed. Out of the madness I was fortunate to catch up with my life long friend...The Ugly American...and we managed a couple of rounds of golf together. He hadn't changed...he smoked and I got high watching.

Towards the end there was an unfinished piece of business to take care of. I wished to see my old tennis coach. A man who was like a second father to me and a person in my life that I surely needed and in some ways I am sorry that I didn't dedicate myself to his teaching more than I did. But this is life and this is how it transpires. We do what we do and then we look back and sometimes we wonder. My father and I drove to his home clear on the other side of town and once we had found the apartment or condominium I walked into another time warp. How many years had it been since I had seen this beacon of my youth? But here he was some 87 years old or so and inside he didn't seem to have changed at all. After touring his home we headed out to go to lunch but first there was a stop he wanted to make. The tennis court. We hit some balls in ninety something degree heat and he had some pearls to give me about the game...about teaching the game. The return of serve and the overhead he expounded on...he is still relevant.

We batted the ball back and forth a bit. I used all of my power of control to deliver the ball to him one bounce waist high. We hit a couple of serves. He actually aced me on the first ball...he hit a rather surprising slice to my backhand in the deuce court. Me being left handed. Just like old times. Old, old times. So many years ago. A lifetime. A past life.

So anyways...I run the risk of being or sounding sentimental or melancholy. Nostalgic. It's nearly against the law to be nostalgic nowadays. Perhaps it has always been this way and it is only now that I have transgressed to the other side of life. But the old tennis coach really hits me right in the heart. I remember those old days...I was a wild and bewildered youth and he was a stern yet patient...tough yet gentle mentor. I still hear his voice in my head. Some of the scenes from the past go whirring in the dizzying hallucination from then to now.

He gave me something when I left that day. Some words that he had come across that somehow struck him the way that things struck him. He was a rather upright fellow...he is a rather upright fellow. Time and conditions will not change him. Age will not change him. He may be hobbling from the knee replacements...the hip replacements. The shoulder replacement. But to me he is a Bionic Man...one for all of the ages. My coach. The only coach that I would have taken on tour if I had the chance. His knowledge and reverence for the great game of tennis second to none...in my eyes.

Here is what he gave me on that hot July afternoon in the year of 2016. In the midst of all of the nonsense. The American "election". An election where the votes don't count. The fix is in...always. Here are the words that he gave me. My coach is a devout Christian but I never once remember him interjecting his religious faith into any conversation until it was all said and done. Then he would casually mention his church...and his faith. So here they are...the words he gave me. "A Game Guy's Prayer".

A GAME GUY'S PRAYER...Author Unknown

Help me to be a sport in the little game of life. I don't ask for any place in the lineup; play me where You need me. I only ask for the stuff to give you a hundred per cent of what I've got. If all the hard drives come my way I thank You for the compliment. Help me to remember You won't let anything come that You and I together can't handle. And help me to take the bad breaks as part of the game. Help make me thankful for them.

And, God, help me always to play on the square, no matter what the other players do. Help me to come clean. Help me to see that often the best part of the game is helping other guys. Help me to be a "regular fellow" with the other players.

Finally, God, if fate seems to uppercut me with both hands and I'm laid up on the shelf in sickness or old age, help me to take that as a part of the game also. Help me not to whimper or squeal that the game was a dream-up or that I had a raw deal. When in the dusk I get the final bell, I ask for no lying complimentary stones. I'd only like to know that You feel I've been a good guy.

As read by Mel Allen on Edward R. Murrow's Person to Person program on CBS television.

In God We Trust...Amen.

[don_budge]

The Yips, Shanks and Chili Dips...Yikes! The Claw Grip...Yippee!

The Winner Takes It All...(ABBA 1980)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92cwKCU8Z5c

I don't wanna talk about things we've gone through,
Though it's hurting me, now it's history
I've played all my cards and that's what you've done too,
Nothing more to say, no more ace to play
The winner takes it all, the loser standing small
Beside the victory, that's her destiny

I was in your arms thinking I belonged there,
I figured it made sense, building me a fence,
Building me a home, thinking I'd be strong there,
But I was a fool, playing by the rules
The gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice,
And someone way down here loses someone dear

The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall,
It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain


But tell me, does she kiss like I used to kiss you,
Does it feel the same when she calls your name
Somewhere deep inside you must know I miss you,
But what can I say, rules must be obeyed
The judges will decide the likes of me abide,
Spectators of the show always staying low

The game is on again, a lover or a friend,
A big thing or a small, the winner takes it all

I don't wanna talk if it makes you feel sad,
And I understand you've come to shake my hand
I apologize if it makes you feel bad
Seeing me so tense, no self-confidence

The winner takes it all
The winner takes it all

I guess the lyrics speak for themselves. Winners and losers. Don't get caught on the wrong side of that line. The lyrics say it all.

"The gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice, And someone way down here loses someone dear..." Spoken deep from the land of Scandinavia. Their minds as cold as ice.

Agnetha is a dead ringer for my wife when she was young. They used to mistake her for Agnetha in Gothenburg back in the day. Do I repeat myself? Of course I do. I am a tennis teacher. Its the nature of the beast.

ABBA...it was a different time. No cell phones. The reality constructs were beyond us. It was simpler. We could take so much for granted. Only questioning the obvious. Yeah...the winner takes it all. But still the loser has a choice. Quit or reinvent. Soldier on. Dust off...bite the bullet. Live to play another day. To love another day. Lord have mercy!

I just love this song. The winner takes it all. It's true isn't it? Do you play golf? Do you know what a shank is? Do you know what the yips are? Shanks, skulling the ball, hitting it fat, chili dipping. 10splayer knows what I am talking about. At least in the beginning of this discussion. I might lose him with the philosophical angles...but I doubt it. He's a perceptive fellow. Sensitive too.

If you have the shanks in your chipping. If you cannot make solid contact and contract the yips therefore alternating between variations of skulled shots, hitting it fat...repetitive chili dips. You lose your appetite. Not only for golf but you feel like a loser. There isn't a worse feeling...partcularly if you consider yourself a winner. ABBA is singing a song about love...losing at love. A bitter feeling also.

Some things make me talk about the darkest that life has to offer. It always is in the background. After suffering a devastating blow you get gun shy. You know the consequences. You understand there are times when you are feeling with your feet...where's the bottom? You ask yourself...is there a bottom? A couple of years ago my dog Frankie died. Two and a half months later...on my birthday the wolf Dylan fell deathly ill. He died two weeks later. God...how I loved those animals. I asked myself over and over...where's the bottom? Is there a bottom? Life does that to you. I've been a loser before. I'm not too ashamed to admit it. Married twice now...divorced around eighteen times now.

Most of the time...I am what you would call a realist. I am the first to have discovered that the glass is never half full or half empty...it's never one or the other. Never forget...it is half full AND half empty. Don't give me that shit about being an optimist or me being a pessimist. It's just the way it is.

But this business of not being able to make solid contact with the short shots on the golf course is completely miserable. My God...shanking is the Devil's play. Unable to stop hitting the ball ninety degrees to the right. On such a short swing. It's a simple thing...isn't it? Ok...the shanks are cured and suddenly it is impossible to make solid contact with the golf ball with your wedges on the short little swings. You hit behind the ball...that is called hitting the ball fat and your shot comes up woefully short of your target. It's embarrassing for a swing connoisseur. Or instead of hating it fat...you hit it thin and skull the ball and it goes rocketing by your target. How fucked up is that? Thoughts become comments...you mention hanging yourself in the barn. Never really meaning it...it is just an expression as to just how fucked up the feeling is. To be such a loser. A psychological mess.

These things happen to golfers. It's a curious phenomenon. The greatest of all golfers become afflicted. It's a test of your resolve. A test of your character. A test of your faith in God. It's an existential question mark planted right in the middle of your being...your cerebral cortex. It's a yip. An involuntary jerk in your hand or hands. In my case it is my right hand. On touchy little shots. Shots I used to revel in...using the built in touch that I developed in tennis to hit daring shots around the green. But suddenly it disappears and these ugly shots suddenly come into play. It's the devil I tell you...feeling possessed. Now I know what Dostoyevsky wrote about in his wonderful epic work..."The Devils".

Listen to Ben Hogan here talking to Gene Sarazon on Shell's Wonderful World of Golf. He has the yips. He's playing against Sam Snead. He also had the yips and invented a myriad of ways to get around it. Those nasty little jerks...involuntary twitches. Damn things! Hogan is playing a perfect round of golf tee to green but he cannot make a putt for birdie. At 19.20 watch as he struggles to get his nerves under control and he holes the damn thing. Gene Sarazon has the following exchange with him:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7URngrpvb8

Gene: "You've played twelve holes. You've hit every green. You've had putts for eagles and birdies and you finally holed a putt."

Ben: "It was unbelievable. I couldn't believe it. I must of hit it on the right jerk Gene."

Listen to the rest of this. What the hell...watch the whole thing. Two golf legends with the sweetest swings. Look how the tip of the golf club points at the target like Roger Federer's forehand. The tip of the racquet...more white light. While you are at it look at this video that I have posted a number of times..."What is the most important thing in the golf swing is...by Ben Hogan and Sam Snead." It's classic stuff. An interesting discussion. Listen to Ben Hogan...he's a shaman. A "Swing Shaman". In this explanation he describes the problem that I have with the short shots. A disconnect between my movement to the ball when attempting short swings.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4w2kX2aVlI

It's Good Friday here in Sweden. The Lord gave his only Son. Jesus Christ. Somehow today when I went to the golf club...it was snowing a light snow. Phil Collins sings of "the evil of a snowflake in June" in a song called "Mad Man Moon". Listen to this song. Phil Collins killing it. As always.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3W-uOQ41n8U

"Was it summer when the river ran dry
Or was it just another dam
When the evil of a snowflake in June
Could still be a source of relief
Oh how I love you, I once cried long ago
But I was the one who decided to go
To search beyond the final crest
Though I'd heard it said just birds could dwell so high

So I pretended to have wings for my arms
And took off in the air
I flew to places which the clouds never see
Too close to the deserts of sand
Where a thousand mirages, the shepherds of lies
Forced me to land and take a disguise
I would welcome a horse's kick to send me back
If I could find a horse not made of sand

If this desert's all there'll ever be
Then tell me what becomes of me
A fall of rain ?
That must have been another of your dreams
A dream of mad man moon"

You see how I am...rambling as a Mad Man Moon. A lunatic by definition. Jumping from stone to stone. The water rippling beneath my feet inviting me to trip and fall. An invite to doubt my self. There's a point though. My God...my Good Lord there's a point. From winners to losers. From God to the Devil. From Hogan to Federer. Shamans. Illusions...reality. All points in between. Today...I am ecstatic. Good Friday...thank you Lord for giving your only Son.

The evil of a snowflake in April...in Sweden. Could still be a source of relief. Did I stumble across a cure...for the shanks, the chile dips, the fat shots, the skull shots? Could it be so simple? The Claw Grip. Amazing!!! It completely takes the right hand out of play.

I realized in my practice that I could chip with just my left hand on the club. Like a slice backhand...a simple motion. The simplest of all motions. So I tried barely having my right hand on the club. Zero grip pressure...just on for the aesthetics. The look of a two hand grip. But alas...just the presence of the right hand being there was enough to reduce my chances of solid ball contact to zero. In my head. I couldn't get my head around it...whenever my right hand was on the grip. I was resigned to chipping one handed which certainly would have made me an anomaly around the golf club. But somehow there was an idea...I don't really know why I thought of it.

Some golfers resort to what is called a "Claw Grip" when they are putting. Sergio Garcia and Phil Mickelson for example. Obviously many of these are probably suffering from the "jerks" as Hogan put it so delicately. I tried it with my chipping stroke. VOILA!!! Every single swing produced solid ball contact. Not one with funny business. No shanks, no fatties, no thinned...no fucking chili dips. I will pray tonight that this is the cure. Thank you Lord. Trust in God.

Good Friday to all...Happy Easter. He gave us his only Son. Never forget this. Hold this in your heart to know what love is. God Bless.

[bottle]

The Winner Takes It All...(ABBA 1980)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92cwKCU8Z5c

I don't wanna talk about things we've gone through,
Though it's hurting me, now it's history
I've played all my cards and that's what you've done too,
Nothing more to say, no more ace to play
The winner takes it all, the loser standing small
Beside the victory, that's her destiny

I was in your arms thinking I belonged there,
I figured it made sense, building me a fence,
Building me a home, thinking I'd be strong there,
But I was a fool, playing by the rules
The gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice,
And someone way down here loses someone dear

The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall,
It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain


But tell me, does she kiss like I used to kiss you,
Does it feel the same when she calls your name
Somewhere deep inside you must know I miss you,
But what can I say, rules must be obeyed
The judges will decide the likes of me abide,
Spectators of the show always staying low

The game is on again, a lover or a friend,
A big thing or a small, the winner takes it all

I don't wanna talk if it makes you feel sad,
And I understand you've come to shake my hand
I apologize if it makes you feel bad
Seeing me so tense, no self-confidence

The winner takes it all
The winner takes it all

I guess the lyrics speak for themselves. Winners and losers. Don't get caught on the wrong side of that line. The lyrics say it all.

"The gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice, And someone way down here loses someone dear..." Spoken deep from the land of Scandinavia. Their minds as cold as ice.

Agnetha is a dead ringer for my wife when she was young. They used to mistake her for Agnetha in Gothenburg back in the day. Do I repeat myself? Of course I do. I am a tennis teacher. Its the nature of the beast.

ABBA...it was a different time. No cell phones. The reality constructs were beyond us. It was simpler. We could take so much for granted. Only questioning the obvious. Yeah...the winner takes it all. But still the loser has a choice. Quit or reinvent. Soldier on. Dust off...bite the bullet. Live to play another day. To love another day. Lord have mercy!

Embarrassing!

[don_budge]

The Winner Takes It All...(ABBA 1980)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92cwKCU8Z5c

I don't wanna talk about things we've gone through,
Though it's hurting me, now it's history
I've played all my cards and that's what you've done too,
Nothing more to say, no more ace to play
The winner takes it all, the loser standing small
Beside the victory, that's her destiny

I was in your arms thinking I belonged there,
I figured it made sense, building me a fence,
Building me a home, thinking I'd be strong there,
But I was a fool, playing by the rules
The gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice,
And someone way down here loses someone dear

The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall,
It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain


But tell me, does she kiss like I used to kiss you,
Does it feel the same when she calls your name
Somewhere deep inside you must know I miss you,
But what can I say, rules must be obeyed
The judges will decide the likes of me abide,
Spectators of the show always staying low

The game is on again, a lover or a friend,
A big thing or a small, the winner takes it all

I don't wanna talk if it makes you feel sad,
And I understand you've come to shake my hand
I apologize if it makes you feel bad
Seeing me so tense, no self-confidence

The winner takes it all
The winner takes it all

I guess the lyrics speak for themselves. Winners and losers. Don't get caught on the wrong side of that line. The lyrics say it all.

"The gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice, And someone way down here loses someone dear..." Spoken deep from the land of Scandinavia. Their minds as cold as ice.

Agnetha is a dead ringer for my wife when she was young. They used to mistake her for Agnetha in Gothenburg back in the day. Do I repeat myself? Of course I do. I am a tennis teacher. Its the nature of the beast.

ABBA...it was a different time. No cell phones. The reality constructs were beyond us. It was simpler. We could take so much for granted. Only questioning the obvious. Yeah...the winner takes it all. But still the loser has a choice. Quit or reinvent. Soldier on. Dust off...bite the bullet. Live to play another day. To love another day. Lord have mercy!

[klacr]

Yes, I'm the pro. One of many that will be there that day. Not just Aaron and I.

Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

[don_budge]

He's still an enthusiastic kid when it comes to the maize and blue. Aaron says "Hi" by the way. Playing in his pro-am later this week.

Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

Made my day! I'm sure he is still a great, great Kid. He will always be "The Kid". Say hello for me my friend...and my best to the entire family!

Thanks Kyle. The Pro-Am should be great fun...are you the pro?

[klacr]

That's just fantastic klacr! I think I saw that coming. Meeeshigan. I remember the Kid saying it just like that.

He's still an enthusiastic kid when it comes to the maize and blue. Aaron says "Hi" by the way. Playing in his pro-am later this week.

Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

[don_budge]

Thanks don_budge! Happy New year to you as well. I have another friend in Sweden, a female teaching professional that I often communicate with, she sent me some pics of the gray, dark winter wonderland. Snow expected Tuesday and Wednesday there. Bundle up don_budge. Yes, tough game for my beloved wolverines. Funny, Aaron and I were texting back and forth during the whole game. He actually was at the game, I was in the comfort of my own home. We were both pretty bummed about the outcome, but the next day we were both on court teaching and doing our thing. Win or lose, Go Blue!

Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

That's just fantastic klacr! I think I saw that coming. Meeeshigan. I remember the Kid saying it just like that.

[klacr]

Michigan versus Florida State...


I have a minimal interest in football. Even University of Michigan football. It's strange that in Europe everybody here thinks the same way about American football...it is a non event. Even though it is happening there to the tune of hundreds of thousands of spectators and millions of television watchers...here it may as well not be happening. Such is culture. What is important to one on the other side of the world is not even on the radar screen on the other side. Get it? It's culture.

A couple of highlights to a college football game yesterday. So many in the USA were banking on this. So many wishing for a particular outcome. I imagine that it was quite a game. Somebody had to lose. Everybody shook hands afterwards and got on with their lives. It's complicated.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEpZ18PczSc

There's a man child that lives in Florida. Dade County. More than one for that matter. I know who he was pulling for. But today he will get up and get on with his life doing what he always does...his best. Greetings from Sweden klacr and Aaron. Happy New Year and give 'em hell in 2017!!!

Thanks don_budge! Happy New year to you as well. I have another friend in Sweden, a female teaching professional that I often communicate with, she sent me some pics of the gray, dark winter wonderland. Snow expected Tuesday and Wednesday there. Bundle up don_budge. Yes, tough game for my beloved wolverines. Funny, Aaron and I were texting back and forth during the whole game. He actually was at the game, I was in the comfort of my own home. We were both pretty bummed about the outcome, but the next day we were both on court teaching and doing our thing. Win or lose, Go Blue!

Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

[don_budge]

Michigan versus Florida State...


I have a minimal interest in football. Even University of Michigan football. It's strange that in Europe everybody here thinks the same way about American football...it is a non event. Even though it is happening there to the tune of hundreds of thousands of spectators and millions of television watchers...here it may as well not be happening. Such is culture. What is important to one on the other side of the world is not even on the radar screen on the other side. Get it? It's culture.

A couple of highlights to a college football game yesterday. So many in the USA were banking on this. So many wishing for a particular outcome. I imagine that it was quite a game. Somebody had to lose. Everybody shook hands afterwards and got on with their lives. It's complicated.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEpZ18PczSc

There's a man child that lives in Florida. Dade County. More than one for that matter. I know who he was pulling for. But today he will get up and get on with his life doing what he always does...his best. Greetings from Sweden klacr and Aaron. Happy New Year and give 'em hell in 2017!!!

[stotty]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39PiSwtUwoQ

Here's an interesting analysis of the match...in hindsight. Mats Wilander stunned me with his revelations. Craig O'Shannessey puts his "two cents" in. Interesting insights.

Interesting indeed. I remember Bernie Mitton well. He had a couple of good runs at Wimbledon in the 70s.The tactics were good ones, weren't they? And according to Matts it was a tactic Connors never really learned to combat.

Here is a clip I love http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4x93bc

Nastase rolls a serve in a follows it to the net. Arthur could lay into this one or go for the more intricate, dissecting option. He chooses the latter. He chips a deft return crosscourt. Nastase, moving beautifully - unmatched even by Federer in this part of the court - gets right down to the volley and places to the only place he can go. By this time Arthur has seized control of the point and hits a perfect lob.

I love that point for three reasons: One, you just don't see this stuff anymore. Two, Arthur's astuteness, Three, Nastase's speed and balance at the net.

Stotty

[don_budge]

Arthur Ashe's tactical plan to defeat Connors in the 1975 Wimbledon Final

Arthur's plan to defeat Connors had been executed several years earlier, by Pancho Gonzales. Charlie Pasarell, who had never forgotten that match, recounted it to Arthur on the eve of the Wimbledon final.

Who better to turn to on the cusp of the biggest day of your sporting life than a tower of acumen and strength such as Pancho Gonzales. No wonder Ashe was so mentally resolved and strong that day. With Pancho Gonzales in your corner as your source of inspiration, who wouldn't be?

Stotty





https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcoR0gsZ_FQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39PiSwtUwoQ

Here's an interesting analysis of the match...in hindsight. Mats Wilander stunned me with his revelations. Craig O'Shannessey puts his "two cents" in. Interesting insights.

[stotty]

Arthur Ashe's tactical plan to defeat Connors in the 1975 Wimbledon Final

Arthur's plan to defeat Connors had been executed several years earlier, by Pancho Gonzales. Charlie Pasarell, who had never forgotten that match, recounted it to Arthur on the eve of the Wimbledon final.

Who better to turn to on the cusp of the biggest day of your sporting life than a tower of acumen and strength such as Pancho Gonzales. No wonder Ashe was so mentally resolved and strong that day. With Pancho Gonzales in your corner as your source of inspiration, who wouldn't be?

Stotty

On the eve of the final Ashe discussed tactics over dinner with Dell, his manager, and Charlie Pasarell, a fellow player and friend. Pasarell recalled a match he had watched Connors lose in 1971 in Los Angeles. The 19-year-old had been sweeping aside everyone in his path, but had been outwitted by the 43-year-old Pancho Gonzalez, who baffled him with an array of delicate and carefully placed strokes, including drop shots and lobs.

Ashe’s natural game was to attack and go for his shots, but the strategy the three men devised for him was to take the pace off the ball, focus mostly on Connors’ forehand, where he could be particularly vulnerable on low volleys, and use the lob. At only 5ft 10in, Connors might have trouble with lobs, particularly on his backhand side with his double-handed grip. Just before Ashe went on court, Dell gave him a hand-written note: “Keep the ball low, and mostly on Connors’ forehand side; serve him wide to the backhand; use the lob.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcoR0gsZ_FQ

[don_budge]

Arnold Palmer...passes away at 87 years old

First it was Gordie Howe at the age of 88 and now the sports world loses another legend Arnold Palmer at the age of 87. These men were from the "Romantic Age" of sports. When it was about the game...and not the business.

http://golfweek.com/2016/09/25/arnol...es-away-at-87/

Of course money is important. It pays for the golf or the hockey. It pays for the food we eat. These men considered it an honor to play a boys game and to get paid for it was a bonus. These two men might just be considered icons as they were one of a kind. Not only were they one of a kind...they broke the mold. Now they are gone. A little bit of traditional thoughts in sports dies with these men.

“We loved him with a mythic American joy,” said Palmer biographer James Dodson. “He represented everything that is great about golf. The friendship, the fellowship, the laughter, the impossibility of golf, the sudden rapture moment that brings you back, a moment that you never forget, that’s Arnold Palmer in spades. He’s the defining figure in golf.”

"We loved him with a mythic American joy"...from the "Romantic Age" of golf these kind of feelings were once possible.