Our Generations

Our Generations

I’m going to be talking about them. Yesterday I was hitting against the wall, as I do nearly every day. I was hitting pretty good, despite what people might say who want to put us down. I wasn’t hoping I would die before I get old. Next to me a young lad was also hitting, also pretty good. After a while he approached me and asked me if I’d like to hit with him. He meant we both hit against the wall and then return each other’s rebounding shots. I said Okay, adding that I hadn’t done that before. I quickly realized he was a quality player: accurate, powerful, agile. Soon he asked me how long I’d been playing tennis; I told him since I was 56, rather late in life. I added that I am now 75. He made no comment. He told me he had participated in the annual Orange Bowl tournament here in Miami; he was 12 at the time, playing 14-year-olds. I asked his age: he told me 13. That’s a 62- year difference—more than one generation. There we were slamming the ball together and not caring about the age gap. I had nothing to teach him about tennis. After a while I suggested we play some competitive mini-tennis, no wall involved. In this game you only slice and cannot hit the ball hard; you make the opponent move around with controlled shots. It was strenuous. I think he had the edge on me, showing considerable skill. It was great fun. In tennis there is no generation gap, no wishing they would all fade away, no not digging what we all say. During a brief break he asked me who my favorite professional players are; I replied Alcaraz and Sinner. He said he agreed with me but added that on the women’s side he favored Raducanu. I laughed and said she could have been the most famous woman in the world if only she had won another US Open. Then his mother called him away and off he went. I don’t know the lad’s name.