They say you play "Table Tennis" in an arena and "Ping Pong" in the basement. Well, I've only played Ping Pong.

I played ping pong in high school at Sacred Heart and I was a champion player. After moving to senior living at Acoya Troon in Scottsdale, Ping Pong was one of the activities. I was talked into playing the game again.

I thought reviving my 67-year-old game would be a disaster but it wasn't. We played the game twice a week and within a few weeks I was a challenge to the community's ping pong champion, Mac.

Ping Pong has become an activity that I look forward to each week. Mac has moved out of the community and, although I have not achieved his reputation of "unbeatable," I have become one of the top players; a contender to be reckoned with!

Many of our residents were tennis players and a few also played ping pong in their younger days. Each week one of the residents who stops by to watch the games gets the urge to play again. As a result, the number of players keeps growing and we now have about five or six players who show up at least once a week.

  I was a big fan of golf and always enjoyed watching the likes of Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, Lee Trevino and, my favorite, Greg Norman. However, I never played the game until I was 62 years old.

When I was teenager, I thought it would be fun to be a caddie but my mother objected. My two uncles golfed but my mother always said golfers looked down on caddies as "poor kids." Once I caddied for my uncles but my mother may have put them up to it to prove her point. As I remember, I carried their bags only to get paid a hot dog and a Coke for lunch.

It wasn't until 1962 when I overheard two co-workers making plans for a weekend round of golf that I was encouraged to maybe play the game. "I hope I break 100." one of them said. I must have laughed at his remark because he turned to me and asked "What? Do you think we play like those guys on TV?" I guess I did think that!

Sometime later I was telling that story to my lady friend and she told me that if I wanted to play golf her son would take me out on the course. I wanted to learn but I didn't know I could hit the ball. She didn't golf but we went to a driving range where she taught me how to stand and to hold the club. I discovered I could hit the ball.

Bill agreed to teach me the game. In golf, everyone must have their own equipment so I bought a set of used clubs and a new Ping putter. Looking back, I was a terrible golfer. I remeber one day, I hit the ball straight up into the air on the first tee. The ball hit a tree branch and came back down like a bullet almost hitting the starter.

But I loved the game and was convinced that I could become a really good golfer. After a bad shot I always thought I could hit the ball better on the next shot. And sometimes I did. In any case, the hardest part of golf was hitting a few good shots back-to-back.

I eventually replaced my used clubs with a set of new Wilson clubs. The set was complete with three woods, six irons and a bag. Next, I began taking golf lessons. One day I was apologizing to my instructor for my inexpensive set of clubs. That day he taught me a very valuable lesson.

He took the three-wood out of my bag and hit the ball 250 yards. When he handed the club back to me, all he said was "This one works!" From that day on I realized that regardless of how expensive or inexpensive my clubs were, they only worked when I swung them properly.

In my second or third year of golfing, Anita gave me a birthday gift of a set of irons. At the driving range they fitted the clubs to my swing with a more flexible shaft. I choose the Cleveland set because it just felt comfortable. My game did improve with those irons.

Encouraged by that, I bought a set of Cobra woods that had the more flexiible graphite shafts. For the next seventeen years I used my Cleveland irons and my Cobra woods. The one club in my bag that I have never replaced is my Ping blade putter.

Anita and I played golf almost every weekend at Fairways Golf Course. Sometimes I joined my friends to experience other courses. With Sharon and Kevin or Shanez and Eric I played great courses like Shannondell or Five Ponds. After retiring, Sharon and I often played Westover Country Club during the week. If no one was available, I would play at Walnut Lane municipal golf course near my home.

But it was during the long Philadelphia winters that I missed golf the most. Eventually, I began to tag along with Anita when she traveled on business to warmer climates like Florida, Nevada, and Arizona. Florida was nice, Las Vegas was a blast but it was the golf trips to Arizona that I grew to love the most.

After several trips to Arizona, I decided it was the place where I wanted to retire. Anita's son, Bill, had also shown a lot of interest in moving to Arizona. Bill made the first move. As a construction engineer, he bought a lot in Fountain Hills and decided to build a custom home on the lot.

Anita and I liked the Mesa area for many reasons. In the spring of 2005, we made a trip to Arizona. We used Bill's realtor and we found a great house at Red Mountain Ranch in the Mesa panhandle. We settled on the house on Cinco de Mayo, 05/05/05, and planned to rent it until until we were ready to move to Arizona.

After our first tenants moved out, Bill and Hanna rented the house intending to live there while their Fountain Hills house was being built. I paid to join the Red Mountain Ranch Country Club as a golf member so Bill and Hanna could golf. However, Anita refused to pay any of the golf membership fee and Bill and Hanna were not interested in paying the monthly dues.

Then, after just 4 months, Bill and Hanna bought a million-dollar home at La Sendas in Mesa instead of building in Fountain Hills. I did not want to rent the house again. We could not get enough rent to cover the mortgage and I was stuck with a $6,000 golf membership and $650 in monthly fees for a game no one could play.

In July 2007 Anita and I moved into our Mesa home. Anita refused to play golf again claiming that she only played to give me a partner. My cat Brandy was banned from the house and lived in a closet. We shared nothing and by January I felt I could not continue to live in the same house as Anita.

I moved into a condo on Recker Road in Mesa. I had one good friend at Red Mountain Ranch and John and I continued to golf at Red Mountain. On May 30, 2008 I got a hole-in-one playing with John. We were good friends but I missed my friends and golf buddies in Pennsylvania.

After moving I went online to a dating site looking for someone who "liked to golf and dance." In April 2008 I met Joan. Joan lived in Anthem, AZ. Anthem Country Club was a private club with two beautiful and challenging golf courses, the Persimmon course and the Ironwood course. But Joan had given up her golf membership and sold her golf cart.

After dating a while, Joan would spend weekends with me and we enjoyed many rounds of golf at Red Mountain Ranch. Occasionally I would go to Anthem. The people at Anthem Country Club were friendly and welcoming. After two years of dating, Joan and I decided to live together. Anthem was clearly the better choice. We re-joined the Anthem Country Club.

Joan enjoyed getting back to the lady's 9-hole golf league and I joined the men's Monday league. Most of these men had played golf from a young age and I was intimidated by their long drives and putting skill. My high handicap was only good when I had a great game so I gave up league play preferring to play with friends or with Joan.

When the golf courses at Anthem became too challenging, we gave up our golf membership. I found many friends at Anthem and we played for years at Sun City courses like Palmbrook CC and Union Hills. For about five years, Marvin, Nate, Allen and I played the pristine course, Wickenburg Ranch. Occasionaly Hank joined as a substitute.

I never did become a very good golfer. My best gmme was an 86 but I could shoot pretty consistently in the 90's. The best golfers hit a long, straight ball, keeping it in the fairway. I never hit a long ball but all the time I spent playing the narrow fairways at Walnut Lane in Philadelphhia taught me how to keep it straight.

Today Joan and I have hung up our golf shoes but there is a golf simulator at Acoya that we can enjoy any time we're in the mood. We still keep up our dancing though, and unlike our golf game, we are considered pros on the dance floor.

  Darts originated in Britain, and there is substantial evidence suggesting it began with soldiers throwing cut arrows or crossbow bolts at the bottom of a barrel. Nowadays, darts is a game where a player throws three darts per turn at a target known as the dartboard.

I was introduced to darts in Centerville, Ohio. The business next to my JCPenney product service center manufactured darts. To promote English darts, the owner organized a "dart night" at a nearby tavern that was popular with local businesses, particularly during Happy Hour.

Dart night took place weekly. Members of the local English Dart League were paired with novice players by drawing names from a hat. A small "entrance fee" was collected and then split between the first and second place winners. The bar contributed a six-pack of beer for third place.

I learned to play darts during those dart nights. I quickly became skilled, consistently winning alongside my league partner. Before long, I was competing as a league member with a novice. My love for the game led me to join the local English Dart League.

The league played darts weekly at the taverns that sponsored the teams. The home and away teams competed in traditional English dart games such as "01" and "Cricket." Trophies were awarded at the end of each season for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place teams, for "best player," and for "most improved" player.

I received my first trophy as "most improved," and with encouragement from my fellow players, I entered a few Ohio dart tournaments. Although I did not win any tournaments, I reached the semi-finals in a tournament held in Columbus, Ohio. Tournaments were thrilling and provided a chance to meet players from various other states.

One of the most memorable players in the tournament was from Philadelphia, known as "Tex." Tex carried two sets of darts in "holsters" on his hips. After JCPenney transferred me to New Jersey, I visited a pub in Philadelphia where Tex was known to play.

To start a game of darts, each player throws a dart at the bullseye. The player closest to the bullseye goes first. Tex and his opponent tied three times, with both landing a dart in the center bullseye while standing backwards to the dartboard. I chose not to join the games but to sit and observe.

In New Jersey, I joined the league and played for the Mt. Royal Inn in Mt. Royal, NJ. I was able to hold my own against some of the best players and gained enough popularity to be elected president. I served as president of the South Jersey English Dart League for six years.

English dart games focus on scoring points. The most common game, "01," aims to reduce a fixed score of 301, 501, or 601 to zero. Players take turns throwing three darts. The total score for the three darts is calculated and subtracted from the "01" number.

The first player to bring their score down to zero wins. However, the winning throw must land on the outer double ring. If a player's score falls below zero, it is considered a "bust," and the score resets to the previous value, forfeiting the remainder of the turn.

During my presidency in the league, we devised a unique method for creating a "handicap" in darts. I developed a score sheet that was user-friendly for tracking each player's performance in triples, doubles, and out shots, allowing us to determine their handicap.

To assist in tallying scores and handicaps, I wrote a computer program and discreetly installed it on the JCPenney computer at my office. The league secretary and I would input the data every Wednesday night after league play, and the computer would print out the results. We mailed the result sheets to the teams on the same night as the games.

American darts is a variation of the traditional game of English darts. It has been popular in the United States for many years but differs significantly from the traditional game that originated in Britain.

Firstly, American darts are played with wooden darts. These darts are fletched with turkey feathers, giving them a distinctive appearance and feel, unlike the brass or tungsten darts used in the British game.

Secondly, the dartboard utilized in American darts differs from that used in the British game. The wooden American dartboards feature a unique layout. The scoring area extends from the center bullseye to a red double-score ring and the uncolored triple-score ring, while the large blue ring is not part of the scoring area.

English dartboards are constructed from compressed sisal fibers that separate when the dart penetrates, causing minimal damage to the board. The scoring area on the board stretches from the center bullseye to a triple-score ring and concludes with an outer double-score ring.

Finally, the rules of the American darts game are also quite different. The American dart game is Baseball. Instead of aiming to score points like in the traditional English game, players target numbers 1 through 9 on the board in that sequence, similar to the innings in a real baseball game. Each hit counts as a home run, with darts in the double ring counting for 2 runs and those in the triple ring counting for 3 runs.

It's perhaps not surprising that English darts features a game called Cricket. Cricket is a traditional British bat-and-ball game played between two teams, while Baseball is a traditional American bat-and-ball game played between two teams.

The English dart game of Cricket involves only the numbers 20 through 15 and the bullseye. The objective is to score 3 darts in each of those numbers (closing the number) before the opponent does. A dart in the double ring counts as 2 darts, while a dart in the triple ring counts as 3 darts. The first player to "close" all the numbers wins.

In the tournament game of Cricket, a player can score points against their opponent by throwing darts into a number that the opponent has not "closed." The winner must be the first player to "close" all the numbers while also being ahead in points scored.

  Some individuals oppose firearms, yet there are numerous myths and misunderstandings surrounding guns and gun ownership. I may begin by stating my qualifications for discussing this topic.

I am a member of the Scottsdale Gun Club and possess an Arizona Concealed Carry Permit. Although the permit is not mandatory in Arizona, it demonstrates that I have been educated about the laws and responsibilities associated with owning and carrying a firearm.

To start, there are approximately 300 federal laws and regulations concerning firearms, and it is unlawful to sell or transfer a gun without a background check, even at a gun show.

Moreover, individual states implement additional gun laws. In general, gun regulations address background checks, specific firearm types, age limitations, prohibited individuals, permits, open carry, concealed carry, brandishing, and discharging a weapon.

A loaded firearm cannot "go off" simply by being dropped or thrown, unless it has been damaged in some manner. For a gun to pose a danger, it must be loaded, aimed, and the trigger pulled. This is why responsible gun owners strictly adhere to the fundamental rules of gun safety.

1. Always assume every gun is loaded
2. Never point a gun at anything you wouldn't want to destroy
3. Never put your finger on the trigger until you intend to shoot

Organizations such as the NRA and the USCCA advocate for responsible gun ownership and the protection of second amendment rights. They do NOT endorse violence or illegal activities. A decade ago, only 19 states permitted concealed carry, whereas now all 50 states allow it.

However, carrying and firing a gun is not like what is depicted in films. A loaded 9mm pistol weighs approximately 2 pounds, comparable to a quart of milk. That is quite a bit of weight to carry in your pants or pocket. Additionally, it requires considerable strength to load a magazine and to "rack the slide" before firing a semiautomatic firearm.

In the past, reloading a pistol and a rifle was necessary after each shot. The invention of the revolver in 1791 allowed for multiple shots without reloading. Subsequently, rifles were developed in a similar manner, leading to the classification of these firearms as "semi-automatic weapons."

The challenge in enacting sensible gun laws is that gun-control advocates often overlook what defines "assault weapons" and "weapons of war." The Federal Assault Weapons Ban of 1994 prohibited the production of specific semi-automatic firearms deemed assault weapons, along with certain large-capacity ammunition magazines.

This ban lasted for 10 years and was not renewed because the majority of homicides were committed with firearms not included in the FAWB. Furthermore, the assertion that the FAWB decreased fatalities and injuries from mass shootings was inaccurate, as the semi-automatic weapons commonly used in those incidents were not classified as "assault weapons."

For instance, the AR-15 is a widely used firearm in mass shootings. It has been incorrectly labeled as an "Assault Rifle," but the AR-15 is produced by Armalite, with the "AR" standing for "Armalite Rifle," not Assault Rifle. The AR-15 is a semi-automatic weapon that requires aiming and pulling the trigger for each shot.

Federal law mandates that dealers conduct background checks before selling or transferring firearms in every state, whether at a gun show or elsewhere. Laws alone will not eradicate violence, and removing firearms from individuals who possess them for sport or self-defense would simply leave them vulnerable to armed criminals.

During my time in the military, we were taught that our rifle was our best friend. We learned how to properly handle and respect our rifles. I could "break it down" and reassemble it in the dark. I enjoyed shooting and was regarded as a very good shot—not a Marksman, but still quite capable.

When we were kids, my brother and I owned Daisy BB guns and set up a shooting gallery in our basement. It was made up of two wooden shelves and several small rubber cowboys and Indians. We were very accurat, even when 'shooting from the hip.' An old quilt placed behind our gallery caught the BBs, allowing us to collect and reuse them.

I take pleasure in target shooting, but not in hunting. I once aimed an arrow at a bird in its nest and shot an opossum with a .22 rifle. The arrow missed the bird but ended up covered in egg yolk. The thought of destroying the bird's eggs was troubling enough, but witnessing the opossum die ended my hunting days for good.

At my current age, a rifle feels too heavy to hold steadily. However, I enjoy shooting pistols. I own three distinct pistols: a 9mm semi-automatic, a snub-nose .357 Magnum revolver, and a .22 western revolver with a pearl handle.

My 9mm is a stylish CZ P10C, a prized model valued at $800. The slide has been customized, and the trigger has been slightly modified by Cajun Gunworks. The P10C is comparable to the popular Glock 19 but offers a more comfortable grip, night sights, and exceptional accuracy.

My .357 Magnum is a snub-nose Ruger LCRx revolver that can also fire .38 Specials. The LCRx is lightweight and easy to carry, though it isn't particularly enjoyable for target shooting. The short barrel makes the recoil more noticeable, especially when firing Magnums.

My .22 revolver is a Ruger 22LR Single-Action Revolver. Its long 4.5" barrel makes it ideal for target shooting. It holds six rounds and loads just like the classic western six-shooters.

Although I hoped never to need it, I typically carried one of my pistols, always in a holster. Holsters are designed to prevent access to the trigger until the firearm is removed from the holster.

While I usually carried my gun in an outside the waistband (OWB) holster, it was always concealed. Open carry can be risky; in a criminal situation, someone spotting your gun could make you the primary target.

An interesting point of concern regarding gun ownership and gun-control advocates is that, while they deny any intention to confiscate firearms, they might attempt to impose taxes on guns and ammunition to the point of making them unaffordable.

  One of the highlights of my life were the weekends Bob, Joe and I went off for a weekend of camping, fishing and canoeing. Mostly, our camping trips were an annual event centered around Father's Day. They were great trips that ended with fresh fish cooked over an open fire by chef Robert and evenings by the camp fire with a beer.

One of our best outings was to the Delaware Water Gap in Pennsylvania. My dad had taught me canoeing skills and they came in pretty handy when low water levels along the Delaware River had created some tricky passages and rough rapids.

At one point the rapids were pushing us to the left bank where a fallen tree was stretched out over the water. I was struggling to keep control but yelled out to "lay flat" just as the strong currents swept our canoe under the tree. I lost my hat to the tree but, thankfully, that was the only damage.

If you've ever been camping when it rains you would really appreciate Bob's knowledge of the outdoors. He would bring a huge tarp that we would hang up over a flat, clear area and positioned our tents under the tarp. It kept the ground around our tents nice and dry when it rained.

Bob loved fishing. He was always right at home in the middle of the woods next to a trout stream. Well, actually any stream, river, pond or lake. He always managed to catch enough fish for dinner. In addition to his fishing skills, he had the skill of cooking over an open fire and he had the recipes to go along with his in-the-woods cooking.

When the boys were young, we often joined Arlene's parents on their annual camping trip to Fish Creek Pond in the Adirondack Mountains. I think Bob inherited his fishing skills from his grandmother. She loved fishing and sometimes brought home a bucket of Bullheads for dinner that she caught in the St. Lawrence River in Massena.

Camping at Fish Creek was a great experience for the boys. The camp sites had sandy beaches so they could swim and fish. Their grandfather had a boat so we always got a camp site with a dock. We used the boat for fishing and to explore the passageways winding between Fish Creek Lake and Upper Saranac Lake.

We often took the boat down to the marina for food and supplies since it was shorter than driving around the lake. One fateful day we lost the drain plug. Keith had to jump off the boat at the marina and buy a plug while I kept the boat moving. After circling a few times, I stopped just long enough for him to get back on the boat with a new plug.

Canoeing was also popular. Keith and his wife, Arlene and I had taken canoes down the lake for a picnic in the woods when a storm came up. This happens often in the mountains. This day, however, there were white-caps on the lake, Arlene got sick and could not help paddle. We eventually made it safely back to the camp site but Keith and I both learned that when you take a woman canoeing be prepared to do all the paddling.

  Barbara was an avid skier who grew up in Vermont. I had never been on skis but we had been dating for a while and she thought I would enjoy the sport.

We went to Ski Mountain in Pine Hill, NJ and I took lessons. Barbara was familiar with the South Jersey Ski Club and they offered some fun adventures. The club would leave by bus on Friday night headed for a great ski destination and return on Sunday night.

We decided it would be best to join the club. I did not have any ski equipment and it was fun shopping for skis, poles and boots. An unspoken rule in skiing is that everyone carries their own equipment"

My first season of skiing I did quite well. We had some very fun and exciting trips to Vermont, New York, New Hampshire and even New Jersey. One of my favorite places to ski was Killington in Vermont.

I suffer from acrophobia but skiing never bothered me as long as I looked straight ahead on the ski lifts. The perspective when going uphill made it appear I was closer to the ground than I was. The view behind was usually awesome but I could seldom turn around to enjoy it.

Only once did my acrophobia become a problem and it was quite embarrassing. On a trip to New Hampshire, the top of the mountain provided a view of four states. I was busy snapping pictures and didn't realize how quickly the trails dropped off. Suddenly my acrophobia kicked in and I lost control my legs.

I helplessly looked around realizing that the best I could do was lock my legs into a "snow plow" position. Snow plowing is ski lesson #1 and works best on a gradual slope. Finally, I saw a trail marked "scenic route" and decided it was my safest option.

It would have been ideal except that rounding the first bend on the scenic route I had a cliff on one side protected only by a split-rail fence. With my heart pounding and my legs like jelly, I somehow made it down to the main trail. I stood there for a while to calm down and regain my equilibrium.

By now my companions were on their second trip down the mountain and were looking for me. I explained what happened and assured them I was okay. I took a deep breath and followed them down the mountain. On our next trip up the mountain, at the top I jumped off the lift and just hit the trail.

One season the ski club was going to Whiteface Mountain near Lake Placid, NY. My sons lived in Massena, NY with their mother and I thought it would be fun if they met me in Lake Placid. I made all the arrangements and we had a wonderful weekend together in spite of my wife's efforts to turn it into a disaster.

The funniest incident I remember was the time Barbara forgot to get off the ski lift. First of all, getting on the lift I clumsily knocked my hat off. The couple behind us grabbed it off the ground. Barbara and I were chatting all the way up and at the top of the mountain Barbara didn't get off the ski lift.

When that happens, your feet trip a safety wire that shuts down the lift. I don't remember how they got her off but a ladder was involved. When the lift started again, the couple behind us handed me my hat and quickly left as if to say "We're getting out of the way of these two klutzes."

And speaking of klutzes, there is another story of Whiteface Mountain. Whiteface is one of the highest mountains in New York State so we spent the first day or so getting off the lift half-way up the mountain. When we finally decided to go to the top, I lost my ski poles to a real blunder.

On the way up the mountain, I hung my ski poles on the chair's safety bar and put my hands in my jacket to keep them warm. As we approached the half-way point the lift attendant seemed to be agitated, jumping up and down and waving her arms. Suddenly I realized my ski poles were hanging below the chair.

In my panic, I couldn't get them off the bar in time and as we crossed the unloading ramp my poles were bent in half. Just as I suspected, when I tried to straighten them out at the top of the mountain, they broke. I didn't want to leave broken poles on the mountain so I skied down the mountain holding four halves in my hand.

One of the most fun trips was to the Playboy Club in New Jersey. It was a public ski resort run by the Playboy club and we went more for the experience of the club than for skiing. And an experience it was.

After a day of skiing, we found the room and service outstanding. The "bunnies" were charming, polite, attentive and pretty. Their outfits were actually quite adorable with the French cuffs and the little bunny tail.

The evening ended with a great dinner in the well-appointed dining room and Barbara and I opened the first night of entertainment with our dancing. In the morning at breakfast several people approached our table to tell us how much they enjoyed our dancing.

Barbara was a great dancer and our choreography often earned us the reputation of the most impressive couple on the dance floor. On the second night, as the band began to play for the evening's entertainment, they announced, "Okay, where are our dancers Barbara and Charlie?" We obliged.

  The Cincinnati Reds baseball team dominated the National League from 1970 to 1976 winning five National League Western Division titles, four National League pennants, and two World Series titles. The team's combined record from 1970 to 1976 was 683 wins and 443 losses. It is recognized as among the best in baseball history.

I was always a Cincinnati Reds fan and a Pete Rose fan. During all the years I spent in the Philadelphia area, I became a Phillies fan, especially after Pete Rose transferred to the Phillies.

Between 1980 and 1983 legends like Tug McGraw, Steve Carlton, Mike Schmidt, and Pete Rose led the Philadelphia Phillies to win two pennants and a World Series. They might have won another world championship in the 1981 season but they were unable to regain their winning ways after the sixty-day players' strike.

There was a time I enjoyed going to a baseball game. When we lived in Centerville, near Dayton, I took the boys to see the Big Red Machine. But times were changing. The days of peanuts and cracker jacks had disappeared and even the price of a hot dog and beer cost more than tickets in the bleachers. After baseball banned Pete Rose and then went on strike for an entire season, I lost interest in attending the games.

After moving to Arizona, I never became a Diamondbacks fan. I discovered that once you stop following a sport long enough that you don't know the players, the thrill of watching the games is over.

  I was tall in high school, 6-foot 1 inch, so I was expected to play basketball. I was good at making baskets, even from the "three-point-line" but there were no three-point shots in those days.

But basketball was not my game. I was either "walking" or "fouling." When I bumped someone, it was my foul and when they bumped me it was my foul. Volleyball was a good sport. I could jump and I had a long reach which made me pretty good on the net.

Baseball was another game that eluded me. I had a great pitching arm but it turned out that I had one weak eye and no depth perception. We didn't discover that until 3-D comic books came out and I didn't see anything in 3-D and that was pretty much a prerequisite for catching or hitting a baseball.

I like playing football. I could catch a football and I was a fast runner but they said I was too "skinny" to play. I did manage to get a position on the team, though. I handled the field down marker and chain.

Then I found tennis and played the game for another 40 years. However, when I played tennis there were no two-handed shots. Not even on backhand shots. And it wasn't necessary to grunt with each shot. However, grunting may have been a macho idea because the high school jocks referred to tennis as a "sissy sport."

My brother and I often played tennis together. In his later years, though, my brother suffered from "tennis elbow" and no longer played. But my sons Bob and Joe both played tennis and we had many good times together.