I'm playing tennis again, after the longest hiatus since moving to Florida over 20 years ago. A mix of travel, pneumonia, and winter kept me out of action. (I have a finesse - some might say erratic - game that doesn't do well in wind.)
Sunday I played doubles with one of Holiday Park's old regulars, a genial, modest man with a nearly flawless game. Yesterday I played singles with a more recent regular, who said of my doubles opponent: "He learned the game under Jimmy Evert, when the goal was to get everything back. You only went for it when you were sure you had it. It worked for Chrissie."
After our match, the man, a flight attendant, told me he had switched his route from LaGuardia to Boston. "It's so much nicer he said. A totally different group of people."
"LaGuardia's bad?" I asked.
"LaGuardia, JFK, Newark - it's all the same. I hate to stereotype," he said sadly, "but those are the unhappiest people in the world."
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