Originally posted by tennis_chiro
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You are a little late there, Don. Where were you when the Prince was making her debut? I remember going to war with every player that used it against me in tournaments. I was on my way up. The racquets derailed me. I was livid. I thought they were cheating...not only me but the game herself. And she was my great love. I loved her with all my heart and soul. I wanted to kill them. All of them. In defense of her Tradition. There were too many. There was only me...but it made no difference, I didn't care. I stood up. To the machine!
Tradition? Forget about it. You are too late to be concerned with such trivia. In fact if you speak of such things you will have people calling you a "prisoner of your generation" and looking at you cross eyed. I hear the snickering. To which I say...phooey.
One of my last memories in competitive tennis was going three sets with three opponents with Princess racquets in one day, me and my Kramers...lost the third. I tried to scrape myself off the bed the next day. I lost toenails. I went down fighting. I realized a long time ago...the gig was up. Nobody cared. Not like I do...to this very day. They still don't. That was the day the music died. That was the day that Don Quixote died...again.
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