Allons Jouer Au Tennis, or “It’s Only a Crutch”
By Louise Goldstein (Shawnee Road)
People in Arlington are very active and athletic. There are bikers in Spandex outfits going so fast that they leave my poor Corolla behind like an unwanted relative at a family gathering. There are kids shooting hoops, playing soccer, and learning the martial arts. There are joggers and rollerbladers, swimmers and rock climbers. Me? I’m a librarian. I read about things. I decided that this would change on the day of my 49th birthday. For those of you not in the know, 49 is the new 29
Accordingly, I called my friend Carol.
“Carol,” I said. “We need to do something athletic in honor of my birthday. What do you suggest?”
“How about hiking in the Blue Hills?” said Carol.
“No,” I said, “the Arlington fifth graders just went to Science Camp where they had to hike every day. Andre [my son] needs a change.”
“I know!” said Carol. “We can play tennis. They have courts in Lexington and we can go out for pizza afterward.”
“Perfect!” I said, not bothering to worry about the fact that I don’t really know how to play tennis. Tennis, after all, is important for a child’s development. I thought back fondly to the five or so minutes that my father spent trying to teach me the sport before realizing that a monkey on a typewriter had a better chance of hitting the tennis ball than I did.
“Dave,” I said. “We’re going to play tennis in honor of my birthday.” Dave didn’t bother pointing out that he hadn’t played tennis in more than fifteen years.
I guess I had that look in my eye, the one that says, “We have to do this or my little heart will be broken.”
We headed to Carol’s house and admired her healthy vegetable garden that was still in bloom on Sunday, October 21st. Not only is Carol athletic, she also has a green thumb. When we got to the tennis courts, Andre and Rick took a position on one side of the net. Carol and Dave stood on the other side. I took my favorite position, seated by the fence ready to catch any errant yellow balls.
“Goldie,” said Dave. “Come and play.”
“No, I’ll play later.” I said. I had done my part, I felt, by transporting my little family to a healthy and athletic venue. This was enough exertion for one day.
Dave was playing hard. Andre was hitting one ball after the other.
“Come on,” Carol said. “You can play with me on the other court. It will be fun.”
When I realized that Carol would persist with me the way she did with her vegetables and wouldn’t take no for an answer, I got up reluctantly. I did hit the occasional ball when it came up and kissed my racket. Then, it happened. David fell to the ground.
“Oh, no!” we all cried in unison.
“I feel dizzy,” said Dave.
We drove him to Carol’s house and applied ice to his injury. Then we headed to Bruce’s. You could have knocked me over with a feather on the following Tuesday when I got the call.
“I’ve ruptured my Achilles tendon,” Dave said. “I may need surgery.”
My vocal cords failed me.
“Hello, hello? Anyone there?” David asked.
“Yes,” I croaked weakly.
Dave decided not to have the surgery. He got a cast that went from the bottom of his right foot to his upper thigh. As of December, he had a festive Christmas Green cast from the bottom of his right foot up to his knee. He has missed a lot of work. Andre and I have added shoveling to our winter sports repertoire. I am trying to train the cat, Zuzu, to shovel. She claims that since her fur is white, no one will be able to see her and she might get injured.
I have a new philosophy about this whole family athletic thing. My feeling now is this: It’s only a crutch. As I’ve said to Dave on many an occasion, “Let’s just head over to Barnes and Noble and read a good book.” After all, literacy is very important. Andre gets lots of exercise playing with his friends. There is no need for us to go overboard with this sports thing. If anyone needs information about sports, I’ll be happy to look it up. Just give me a call at the library.
Tags: family, health, holidays, snow, sports, tennis, The Leaping Issue 15(1)