Thoughts about Tennis Tradition...

[don_budge]

Sunny and 42 Fahrenheit...one more shot!

Well the weather being what it is...fickle like all of my ex-girlfriends. Married twice now and divorced 17 times. But anyways...had a nice chat with an older Swedish fellow who just happened to walk by the range where I was the only one practicing. Like it has been for the last four weeks since the course closed for regular play. I collected approximately 60 range balls a few weeks ago in a bucket. So I find a dry area out on the range...when I say dry it isn't really dry. It is just less wet. The area is long enough where I can hit pitching wedges, 9 and 8 irons. Forty of fifty swings. I take a dozen ProV1's (Titleist golf ball) and hit them in one direction, go collect them and hit them back again. Repeat two or three times. But the balls that I collected on the range I put in a bucket and go back to the tees on the range where there are some mats still outside to hit off of. I hit these balls with my driver or 3-wood after I am done with the irons. I hit them all out into a area in the range that is dry enough to go and collect them next time I go to the club. Get it? I am not sure if I have captured the picture. The point is...I think like Tiger Woods. The competition is done with the golf for the winter. I am still trying to iron out the friction in the swing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8nZeZ2xCtc

A superb explanation of the left arm. Arm against the ped muscle...figure 7...rolling the left arm over. I worked it out for several days in the living room while my wife protested against me swinging in the house. Took the ideas out to the range. Very, very interesting results. It's not like you can go and play indoor golf although I understand that there is some new facility where you can actually play against a screen with a computer generated course in town. I am going to check it out.

[don_budge]

Tiger Woods...nobody is going to outwork me.

"It was a crappy day for golf. It was windy, chilly and drizzling...one day long ago. A young Tiger Woods stood alone on the driving range tee of some unknown golf course pounding monstrous drives and he paused and thought to himself, "Nobody is going to outwork me! I hope my competition is home, warm and comfortable, watching TV and playing computer games." He wore a hardened, resolute look on his face as he confidently strode to the putting green to resume practicing the delicate art of scoring, it was tedious work, chipping and putting...in the in-climate, shitty weather. He was hungry, tired and cold. He was, however, on a mission." -don_budge

I made this up…but it could have been.

The weather has taken a turn. The season is probably over in all forms. I persevered to the very end and now transition from the golf course and practice range to the exercise program. Nobody will outwork me.

[don_budge]

But most of all...thanks John. Thanks for everything. Would love to meet you someday.

[don_budge]

DB,I made a decision to drop all politics from the board. Last one pls.

As I have said twice now...I respect your wishes. Out of respect for you. I know that you and I may not share the same political point of view I don't take that in the least personal. I understand how destructive the political opposition has become in America. I hadn't been back in the USA for over ten years when I returned in 2015 in the lead up to the Presidential election of 2016 and I was completely shocked by what I found waiting for me. The country had completely transformed from the one that I left on New Year's 2004/2005.

I have written so many times about how tennis seems to have a life of its own in some rather odd or strange ways. Almost as if it is somehow mirroring or metaphoring life itself. Never has this been more clear to me and I find this parallel universe incredibly fascinating. In these days of a "supposed" pandemic and political explosive times tennis has somehow taken on a different look as well. Never before have we seen a spectacle like the one we are currently witnessing. To me it almost looks like the death of tennis. Society seems to have lost its will to survive as it has been exhausted of all of the illusions of happiness that it used to offer. We have found that all it takes to upset the apple cart is a tiny microscopic entity that may or may not exist. Believe it or not...there is no shortage of people that think that this is a complete scam.

Although I write at times as if it is a scam I cannot be all to sure of that myself. But I believe in a healthy skeptical attitude and not going to go crawling into my basement to finish out my days. I would rather die on my feet...preferably playing golf or maybe even some rather lame tennis. So I have my doubts...as much as I do about tennis. By the way...tremendous kudos to you John for maintaining a level of consistency in the monthly offering of tennisplayer.net. I don't think the website has lost a bit of quality since the trouble began. But the forum has and let me be perfectly honest here. What we are seeing now is a two man discussion about the events being played between stroke and spotty with both of them falling over each to agree with each other. As much as I like and respect stroke...I find this very boring. The last nail in the coffin has been the fact that Roger Federer has mysteriously disappeared for one more go to transform himself for his final curtain call at the Australian Open. I don't know if he has the impetus to make it to Wimbledon. The clock is ticking...the act is drawing to a close.

So what is left? It looks to me as if it is coming to something very base in the human saga. It looks to me as if it is coming down to a scene where it all boils down to survival and if that is the case...so be it. God's will be done. But at the same time it is worth recording the events that transpire and this cozy little corner of the universe doesn't see the amount of infernal traffic that one sees in other parts of the universe nowadays. The internet is rife with opinions. The airwaves are competing against and with each other. The drone of the voice of human existence in the background. But here we have our space...tennisplayer.net.

If I don't agree with your decision with regard to political discussion I can certainly understand it. The last go around got a bit ugly. Some of the words that were used were extremely provocative and demeaning. So there you go. I have never said this before...my two cents. Long live this website and long live tennis. One of the last things to go amongst humans as they relate to each other is any semblance of respect when they do not "agree" with each other. That won't happen with me. I don't think it is because I don't care...but I realise that we are running out of time. Just as the sport of tennis seems to be doing. Running on fumes.

[don_budge]

DB,I made a decision to drop all politics from the board. Last one pls.

Somehow I think that is a mistake...but I could be wrong. What else is there in life nowadays...love in the time of Corona, politics and tennis? Golf maybe. But be that as it may I deleted the last post. The one about the media maybe be interpreted as political and If you deem so I would eliminate that one as well. While I am a feeling and functioning human being outside of the tennis world as well I am also an advocate for law and order. As opposed to anarchy. So without a problem or argument I respect your wishes...much as I respect you as a man and a tennis person.

[John Yandell]

DB,
I made a decision to drop all politics from the board. Last one pls.

[don_budge]

Weapons of Mass Deception...WMD

Ah yes...the infamous "Weapon of Mass Deception". Where have I/you heard that before? Right here on TP. How long have I been using that as the acronym...WMD? This is the first time that I have heard or seen it elsewhere. That doesn't mean it hasn't been around. It has been around a long, long time. What does it take to manipulate a human being? As it stands...not a whole helluva lot. Ask yourself...look yourself in the mirror? Am I a lemming...or a free thinking human being? If you guess either way, check yourself. Nobody is immune. Not even don_budge. Well...maybe a bit less so. Don't you think so? Don't be angry...I'm just the messenger.

https://patriotrising.com/weapons-of-mass-deception/

It's like the "Federer Featherer"...you've been fooled into living your life in a false paradigm.

Anticipating Roger's Thunder...then faced with a Federfore Featherer.

http://www.tennisplayer.net/bulletin...liant+disguise

What's the name of that Springsteen tune...Brilliant Disguise?

Brilliant Disguise....Bruce Springsteen

I hold you in my arms
As the band plays
What are those words whispered baby
Just as you turn away
I saw you last night
Out on the edge of town
I wanna read your mind
To know just what I've got in
This new thing I've found
So tell me what I see
When I look in your eyes
Is that you baby
Or just a brilliant disguise

Now you play the loving woman
I'll play the faithful man
But just don't look too close
Into the palm of my hand
We stood at the altar
The gypsy swore our future was right
But come the wee wee hours
Well maybe baby the gypsy lied
So when you look at me
You better look hard and look twice
Is that me baby
Or just a brilliant disguise

Tonight our bed is cold
I'm lost in the darkness of our love
God have mercy on the man
Who doubts what he's sure of

Well talk about lovely tennis shots. This little feathery is a stroke of genius and it's brilliance is in it's disguise. The initial manipulation of the racquet head with the shoulder turn allows The Swiss Maestro to perform two radically different motions, he can pound it into the corners or he can soothe it and smooth it trickling over the net...how beautiful is that? It hurts when you realize what is coming...you've been fooled!

With his racquet head in proper position...where the racquet head is higher than his hand and just as importantly the head of the racquet is just barely behind his hand so that he has maintained the subtle flex in his wrist, he is in position to make this soft caress on the ball with his strings moving subtly down and across the back of the ball. It's basically a forehand volley stroke. Notice he is not accomplishing this motion with just his hand...or just his arm...or just anything for that matter. His entire being is into this shot...every bit as much as it is behind his Federfore forehand blast or his biggest serves. The whole being of Roger Federer is into his softest shot...with just the right proportion of forward movement necessary to accomplish such a soft placement. Voila...the Federfore Featherer.

The subtle forward movement as he is making contact with the ball is the key. Many try to slide the racquet under the ball with the wrist or try to absorb the ball into the racquet with an almost backwards movement which are both very risky tries on this type of shot...in fact they don't make any sense statistically speaking. Look at his eyes and the position of his head. No head fakes. No no-lookies. The racquet head must be accelerating through the ball on contact or else you can kiss all semblance of control goodbye. Knowing Roger Federer...knowing what a control freak he is, this is going to be the last thing he is going to surrender on such a tender shot...control.

The most difficult aspect of making short putts in golf is the realization that you must accelerate the putter face through the ball. You have got to swing the putter. For you golfer/tennis players out there try visualizing swinging through to the point of the ball that is closest to the hole or rather closest to the net. Trying to push the ball into the hole or trying to wish it into the hole creates a large degree of uncertainty or doubt even on short putts or shots. That is the last thing you want to be feeling on such a delicate shot or stroke...it's the kiss of death. The same thing applies here...you have to swing the racquet. Even the shortest of shots share some of the most fundamental characteristics as the bigger shots...turn the body away from the ball and move the body through the ball. Weight forward on the front foot and accelerate the racquet head through the ball...it's virtually the same recipe for making short putts.

This tennis player is an artist and you could say that he is "poetry in motion".
Would it be possible to see this shot from the other side of his body so that we can fully appreciate the disguise of his backswing? It's one thing to hit brilliantly disguised backhand drop shots and quite another to deliver the feathery touch off the forehand side...as in the Federfore Featherer.

God have mercy on the man...who doubts what he's sure of.

Get the picture? Wake up and pay attention.

[don_budge]

Have you ever thought about channeling some of this journey quest into writing an article/ book/ screenplay, etc. about “Culture change as a reflection of the game of tennis”? It is a unique topic that could be discussed globally or regionally. There are certainly some on this forum who have the tennis and life experiences to help you kickstart such a project.

I have given some thought as to how to convert these almost 6,000 posts to some kind of book. I have written quite a lot about other things as well in other venues. Somehow I haven't managed to come up with the "idea" necessary. I am seeking help in this regard...albeit in a rather ethereal way. Do you have any advice? Thanks so much for your thoughts. You have my email.

[doctorhl]

I wrote this as a message to my high school classmates on our website...50th anniversary coming in 2022

"Journey to the End of the Night"...Ferdinand Celine

I trust everyone has had themselves quite a journey. "Journey to the End of the Night" is a rather dark sardonic novel written by this incredible French author in 1932. Dark days indeed. Some of us are overwhelmed with the darkness of our days in the year of our Lord 2020 and understandably so. If you have a strong mental mindset I recommend "Journey..." to help put this thing in perspective. Jim Morrison of the Doors loved this book so that he wrote a song about it. "End of the Night". Morrison also said "no one here gets out alive". The reality starts to sink in. Yeah...not for the feignt of heart.

"The second half of a mans life is made up of nothing but the habits he has acquired during the first half"... Fyodor Dostoyevsky (The Devils 1871)
My dear father sent me a list of quotes by well known people and this one always stuck in my head. Perhaps it was because he gave them to me as I was approaching forty years of age or so. Maybe I was thirty-eight at the time. As I read this, not knowing the context that it was written in the epic Dostoyevsky novel, I read into it what I could from what I knew. Anyways...I figured that the average human life span might be around eighty years old and right around forty it was halftime, so to speak, and it was time. In the locker room of life. It was time to assess what happened in the first half and to try and evaluate what the score was. Was I winning? Was I losing? There was no coach...there was just me.

After groping my way through my recollections of the first half of my life, it was time to determine a game plan for the second half. The first half was about youth and being young. Physical. Somewhat young but still quite physical as halftime approached. It was becoming apparent though that the second half was not going to be about the body or youth but hopefully evolving into the spirit...in a intellectual, emotional and psychological sense. The first half for my life I was heavily involved in physical activity...namely the sport of tennis and it sort of gave me an identity. The Tennis Player. But I knew as I was approaching forty that I had to give it up. I was no longer young enough to carry on the charade. To do so would be unseemly. I took my first golf lesson on my fortieth birthday at the Dearborn Country Club. In my mind I would never play tennis again.

I had worked rather fastidiously on developing the habits that a tennis player does in order to compete on higher and higher levels. That might loosely sum up the first half of my life. Not that I was solely a "tennis player". I strayed. As I approached the "halftime" of my life I found myself reading like a starving man. In pursuit of a different kind of knowledge. Understanding. I took books to bed and read them through the night. Before I went to sleep...I read. When I woke up in the middle of the night...I read. When I woke in the morning...I read. During the day...I read at every opportunity. I read by author. I picked an author and tried to read everything they wrote. I wanted to get into their heads. I don't know what compelled me to do so. Maybe it was some sort of calling. A divine inspiration. My father asked me why I was reading so insatiably...I could only answer that:

"Like the character in the Dostoyevsky novel "The Devils", that I had not read at that point, I wondered about the second half of my life. I knew big changes were in store for me but I couldn't fathom at the time what they would be. So I read about characters in these great novels by these wonderful authors until I realised that I, too...was a character on the stage of life. I did not want to fall "victim" to the Dostoyevsky curse...old habits. I wanted to change. Completely. Metamorphous."

Anyways...last week I shot 71 on my home club's course of a par 72. I broke par for the first time in many years. I had to put the golf clubs aside as I tried to eek out a living here in Sweden by teaching tennis. How ironic...Mr. Dostoyevsky. Old habits die hard. But having resigned from my position at the little funky tennis club in Skultorp, Sweden I once again set out on my Quixotic Quest on the golf course. I had flirted with breaking par a number of times by shooting even par. Finally I broke the barrier. A watershed moment. Persistence, determination and dedication. Merely a step towards my end goal...to shoot my age. I've been very lucky. Now I find myself well into the fourth quarter of life...just as all of you do. No longer the tennis player although through one of life's wonderful ironies I was the tennis teacher. Here in Sweden. Just like my wonderful tennis coach...Sherman Collins. Wondering about the finish line. Will I have to heave a "Hail Mary" or will I just run out the clock? The Lord only knows.

Have you ever thought about channeling some of this journey quest into writing an article/ book/ screenplay, etc. about “Culture change as a reflection of the game of tennis”? It is a unique topic that could be discussed globally or regionally. There are certainly some on this forum who have the tennis and life experiences to help you kickstart such a project.

[don_budge]

What is wrong with this picture:

Donald J. Trump has 88.8 million Twitter followers.

Joe Biden has 16.6 million Twitter followers.

[don_budge]

I wrote this as a message to my high school classmates on our website...50th anniversary coming in 2022

"Journey to the End of the Night"...Ferdinand Celine

I trust everyone has had themselves quite a journey. "Journey to the End of the Night" is a rather dark sardonic novel written by this incredible French author in 1932. Dark days indeed. Some of us are overwhelmed with the darkness of our days in the year of our Lord 2020 and understandably so. If you have a strong mental mindset I recommend "Journey..." to help put this thing in perspective. Jim Morrison of the Doors loved this book so that he wrote a song about it. "End of the Night". Morrison also said "no one here gets out alive". The reality starts to sink in. Yeah...not for the feignt of heart.

"The second half of a mans life is made up of nothing but the habits he has acquired during the first half"... Fyodor Dostoyevsky (The Devils 1871)
My dear father sent me a list of quotes by well known people and this one always stuck in my head. Perhaps it was because he gave them to me as I was approaching forty years of age or so. Maybe I was thirty-eight at the time. As I read this, not knowing the context that it was written in the epic Dostoyevsky novel, I read into it what I could from what I knew. Anyways...I figured that the average human life span might be around eighty years old and right around forty it was halftime, so to speak, and it was time. In the locker room of life. It was time to assess what happened in the first half and to try and evaluate what the score was. Was I winning? Was I losing? There was no coach...there was just me.

After groping my way through my recollections of the first half of my life, it was time to determine a game plan for the second half. The first half was about youth and being young. Physical. Somewhat young but still quite physical as halftime approached. It was becoming apparent though that the second half was not going to be about the body or youth but hopefully evolving into the spirit...in a intellectual, emotional and psychological sense. The first half for my life I was heavily involved in physical activity...namely the sport of tennis and it sort of gave me an identity. The Tennis Player. But I knew as I was approaching forty that I had to give it up. I was no longer young enough to carry on the charade. To do so would be unseemly. I took my first golf lesson on my fortieth birthday at the Dearborn Country Club. In my mind I would never play tennis again.

I had worked rather fastidiously on developing the habits that a tennis player does in order to compete on higher and higher levels. That might loosely sum up the first half of my life. Not that I was solely a "tennis player". I strayed. As I approached the "halftime" of my life I found myself reading like a starving man. In pursuit of a different kind of knowledge. Understanding. I took books to bed and read them through the night. Before I went to sleep...I read. When I woke up in the middle of the night...I read. When I woke in the morning...I read. During the day...I read at every opportunity. I read by author. I picked an author and tried to read everything they wrote. I wanted to get into their heads. I don't know what compelled me to do so. Maybe it was some sort of calling. A divine inspiration. My father asked me why I was reading so insatiably...I could only answer that:

"Like the character in the Dostoyevsky novel "The Devils", that I had not read at that point, I wondered about the second half of my life. I knew big changes were in store for me but I couldn't fathom at the time what they would be. So I read about characters in these great novels by these wonderful authors until I realised that I, too...was a character on the stage of life. I did not want to fall "victim" to the Dostoyevsky curse...old habits. I wanted to change. Completely. Metamorphous."

Anyways...last week I shot 71 on my home club's course of a par 72. I broke par for the first time in many years. I had to put the golf clubs aside as I tried to eek out a living here in Sweden by teaching tennis. How ironic...Mr. Dostoyevsky. Old habits die hard. But having resigned from my position at the little funky tennis club in Skultorp, Sweden I once again set out on my Quixotic Quest on the golf course. I had flirted with breaking par a number of times by shooting even par. Finally I broke the barrier. A watershed moment. Persistence, determination and dedication. Merely a step towards my end goal...to shoot my age. I've been very lucky. Now I find myself well into the fourth quarter of life...just as all of you do. No longer the tennis player although through one of life's wonderful ironies I was the tennis teacher. Here in Sweden. Just like my wonderful tennis coach...Sherman Collins. Wondering about the finish line. Will I have to heave a "Hail Mary" or will I just run out the clock? The Lord only knows.

[don_budge]

Jesus asks the demon for his name and is told "My name is Legion, for we are many".

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exorcism_of_the_Gerasene_demoniac?fbclid=IwAR3sLZbv4xVyPRc6X2UTn9ugySBC2INM60FKQp-PZRGflYcGBE8Vi2UYi78

So here is what I SAW on election day morning, November 3, here in Sweden. Was it a sign? Around 3 AM EST in the USA...nine in the morning here. A herd of wild pigs came through our property and through our fields in a single file fashion. This is what you would call statistically a "rare event". These swine never come out during the day. NEVER. But this morning I was looking out the window of our upstairs and I saw something that did not make any sense to my eyes at first. What I felt was disbelief. The first swine that came through were the males...as big as mini trucks. Built like little trucks up to 200 kilos. Then came the females and the young. There must have been at least twenty and I think that it was more like thirty. An endless line of swine. So I was thinking of something Biblical and I vaguely remembered the story of the Exorcism of the wild pigs. Wouldn't it be funny...wouldn't it be the ultimate irony if Donald Trump came back from the edge of this abyss and drove all of his "demonic" opponents off the cliff. He had to have gamed the entire thing through every permutation and combination. He talks like a man not ready to concede. Not by a long shot. What does he know? He knows more than any man alive in some sense. He has access to more information than any single person in the world. Any thing done in the dark is going to come out in the light.

[don_budge]

Read All About It...!!!

A huge day in America today...Donald J. Trump or Joe Biden? A pivotal day for the next four years and beyond. Ah...the battle for the soul of mankind. America stands in the way. Donald Trump stands in the way. The election of 2016 was followed by a four year temper tantrum the likes of which the world has never seen. National Guard on standby in 24 states ready for the call to duty. The Donald Trump campaign rallies have been off the charts. I watched several the day before yesterday. Never once did he look as if he even thought he was going to lose. The energy is just unbelievable. How old is he? He has been staring down all of it for four years and never backed down...not once. The Deep State. The Russian Hoax. Impeachment for commenting on the corruption of the Biden's in the Ukraine. The Democrats. His own Republicans. The Fake News media...the most powerful WMD ever assembled (Weapon of Mass Deception). The FBI. The CIA. The Intelligence Agencies. The Banking system. Factions of the Military. The Master's of the Universe. He never backed down.

http://www.whatdoesitmean.com/index3381.htm

[don_budge]

I was a little bored. So I walked down to the road with the garbage to put in the containers. The road is about 400 meters from the house. It's a full moon or at least it was yesterday. A blue moon...the second full moon within the month. I got about halfway down the road where there is a bend and the moonlight is playing tricks on the darkness. York saw me go and probably wanted to come with me. He started howling back in the kennel...the yard. A long and sadly powerful howl. The moonlight slippery in the night and the music of the wolf howling. It struck something deep in me. Deeper than my fear of the dark. It just hit me. I could be lonely if I let myself be. But I refuse because I cannot. The lone wolf walking into the night...darkness all around. Save for a strange light among the shadows. Just a glimpse into the dark. Into the night.

[don_budge]

The Fleeting Expanse of Time...Traditions

Greeting from the Wilderness. Society has gone through a great transformation. How good has it actually been? While some stress the wonders of technology...I wonder. In fact...I question. But any rate I wrote this message to the forum in November of 2015. I know the forum has gone through a deep change as well but it doesn't hurt to think of the past here. What a neighbourhood it was. The characters...the writers. Well it's all changed now. Read on...read on. Don't forget the article at the bottom. This was only a random post as it appeared somehow after I logged in. But I thought it was interesting. Revealing. I am not embarrassed. These were my thoughts on a given day.

#3,000and countingfor Frankie and Dylan and my Love for the Game

A milestone. A tiny one in the big picture. In the general scope of things. It's only me thinking…out loud.

But I think that I have managed to paint a picture. I could call it…"The Year in Tennis"…2011, 2012, 2013, 2014 and now 2015. I could call it…"The Three Little Dots"…connecting the past with the present and into the future. Out of it I came up with a paradigm to teach by…you know the one.

Bill Tilden is the book. Richard Gonzales is the model with the J. Donald Budge backhand. Harry Hopman is the coach. Roger Federer is the living proof.

Make of it what you will…or don't if it doesn't suit you. That is the point afterall…every coach must come up with a paradigm. A paradigm that is rigid enough to adhere to certain fundamentals yet flexible enough to connect the past with the present. Flexible enough to understand that every single student is unique. I was at a trainer's seminar here recently in Sweden and a question was asked of the speaker…what is it that is most important that a trainer should bring to the court?

I will tell you what that is…every coach should endeavor to be a student of the game. No small feat these days with the propaganda and the hype. It's hard to separate the nonsense from the real thing. Modern tennis…and modern times. Tennis metaphorically morphing into life.

What a great pleasure it is to participate in this little neighbourhood of ours. I guess that I have made it my personal playground. I know that I have. For me…it's therapy. It's therapy against the reality of things. The truth is that life isn't all that great. Not for a lot of people. But we tennis coaches and players and students…we are lucky to have such a game to play. Somehow it found us and we become a part of it. It's a living thing…made up of you and I and everyone that has ever found the love of the game through the racquet meeting the ball in sweet spot of the strings. That's love…I can tell you.

Love is a tricky thing. It's a two way street. You get what you give…sometimes you get more than you bargained for. When I first started playing the game I never imagined this. For God's sake…I was privileged to spend two whole summers with J. Donald Budge himself. How did that happened? I was a poor kid from a broken home. I guess the game was finding me. For some reason I was privileged to meet Aaron Krickstein and his family and this gave me another wonderful insight into the game. How did that happen? I'm lucky I guess.

Along the way I took my tennis racquet with me wherever I went. Today it is paying my bills and putting food on the table. The game has been a gift to me. So I got a lot of love out of it…so I feel that I have to give it back. Maybe that seems strange…a strange thought to some of you. But you understand just how much I love the game. I love it enough to defend it as if it was a she and she was the love of my life. I live in a world of make believe…where I am the hero. Like don_quixote falling in love with a whore or defending the world from gigantic windmills.

Love is a tricky thing. I already said that didn't I. We don't deserve it. Therefore it is impossible to find. But I have found it…in a couple of places. Women? It seems that they come and go and so does our love for them. Not always…I suppose true love exists. I love where the fire never goes out. But the love that I found is the love of a dog. Not to mention the love of God. But the love of my dog has been a little heaven on earth. I lost Frankie the American Chocolate Labrador Retriever three days before Christmas last year and then my beloved Wolf Boy went down the day before my birthday in March and he was dead in five days. I lost. I lost big time. A loser of the biggest magnitude.

I was asking myself…where's the bottom? I was falling…at a speed that I was unfamiliar with. The truth is there is no bottom. That's what I found out. The truth is it is a hole…a bottomless hole. Sometimes whether you like it or not…you just keep falling. But you have to stop yourself…nobody else can.

The day the wolf went down was a day that being a student of the game of tennis helped me to understand. If not understand…it helped me to process. In March I was still numb from the loss of Frankie. I couldn't speak for a week…but I wrote here. On that day in March I went to work as normal…it was a Thursday. When I came home the light was on in the stable…which isn't normal. The hair on my neck prickled just a bit. I went in the stable and there was my wife with one of the horses who was having a bout of colic…which can actually be fatal. I went in the house to change clothes and I found Dylan, the wolf, more or less debilitated. I couldn't reach him. I went back to the stable and told my wife and she was very surprised. Dylan seemed to be ok all day.

We were waiting for the veterinarian to arrive and when she finally did it was a couple of hours of torture. For us and the horse. A four foot hose down the nose of the horse to fill her stomach full of water so she wouldn't dehydrate. Along with some solvent to move her bowels. We had to walk her all night long on the hour. I say we…but it was more or less my wife. But Dylan was not responding.

The next morning I took him to the vet. It Friday the 13th. They gave him some antibiotics for a possible infection and after a couple of hours we were headed home. Later on he seemed to revive. The next day he was trying his best to act as if everything was ok. It was a courageous act. He was to die three days later. I lay on the floor holding him…sobbing.

The irony of everything is that on that Thursday we went to look at a Chocolate Lab puppy. A litter of nine. I picked him out immediately…or did he pick me. I guess that we picked each other. Love at first sight. I named him on the spot…Puntzie. He was nine months old on Monday. He's sleeping at my feet right now.

You live to play another day. You keep your head in the game. It ain't over until match point is in the bag. I am not the same man that I was a year ago. The sun was passing us right about here as I remember. I'm a year older now. A year wiser. Happiness? What is that? Is that the name of the game? Or is it survival.

Love…it's a tricky thing. I quit tennis when I turned forty. I took my first golf lesson on my birthday. I never touched a racquet for some 13 or 14 years. I gave myself to golf. But I move to Sweden almost eleven years ago. I wasn't working for the first three years or so. Then one day…out of the bue. I somehow found myself giving a tennis lesson to a pretty French girl on an old and pretty much dilapidated court at the golf club. A couple of guys came walking by after finishing their round. One of them was my neighbour. Another was a man on the board of a local tennis club…they were looking for a tennis trainer. I got the call. The game came to me…again. That was about eight years ago. I began my career as a tennis teacher.

I found tennisplayer.net doing a search for a video of the J. Donald Budge backhand. One of my earliest students also turned out to be my best. Gustaf was switching from two hands to one. I never knew that there was a forum for the first year or so. When I first found it…I marvelled at bottle's writing. I even asked him about writing. He told me that you must know your audience.

When I first started writing here on the forum I mentioned Bill Tilden in one of my posts. Wouldn't you know it that GeoffWilliams was banging on me like I couldn't believe. In my world Tilden has always been discussed openly…without the distraction of his unfortunate personal life. I erased all of my posts that I had written to that point and called it quits. But then I thought it over. Nobody is chasing me away. Nobody. I will leave when it is time. My time is coming…it's coming sooner than later. But it's been fun. In a way you guys are some of the best friends that I ever had.

I dedicate my 3,000th post that I wrote to my beloved friends Frankie and Dylan. Puntzie too…can't forget the living. I dedicate it to my love for the game. To life. From the bottom of my heart. All of it. All 3,004. I did it for my students and you guys too…of course.

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