Hiding Inside the Baseline: Part 4

I was growing up in the golden era of Connors, Borg, and McEnroe.

Summer of 1982. I loved my new environs at the NBTA with all my great new tennis friends, but crazy as my home life could be at times, I missed my family.

I worried about my brother. I worried about my Dad and his sobriety and his ability to take care of my mom and brother. And, of course, I was worried sick about my mom and her cancer and that pending doom that hung over our heads if it were to ever return.

Someone puts a racket in your hand one day. Take a couple of lessons, a workout or two. Then someone gets a funny idea that you should play a tournament. You take a couple beatings, stick to it a bit and before long you’re driving home with your first trophy clenched to your breast.

Having to eat, drink, sleep a sport from a very early age to have any chance of success is probably not the most normal way to grow up. But it was the life I chose and loved from day one.

I was growing up in tennis’ golden era. The…