Tennis, Anyone?

My friends and fellow Detroit-ers Frank and Craig are home visiting their families this week. Since my family moved to Arizona when I was in junior high and my best friend in Michigan moved to Orange County in '88, I don't get too many opportunities to go "home" anymore. (That neither of my parents were really from Detroit means no extended family is there, either.) So it was extra fun that Craig snapped this shot of Rosie's Park in Madison Heights for me, where I took my first tennis lesson (with Fred Kaviuk) back in 1977. I'll always remember Fred fondly for not only being cute -- I vaguely recall he wore pooka-shell necklace and he always called his Jack Kramer Autograph racket a Fred Kramer Autograph -- but for placing me in the intermediate class instead of the beginners. I've since heard rumors that he died of AIDS, but wish I could find out for sure. (Please contact me if you know him or his family.) I have somewhat less fond memories of my second coach, Jeff Delie -- at Village Racquet Club, an indoor heaven that was open 24 hours a day in neighboring Warren -- who uttered the immortal words, "Ken Walsh, get that slice off your forehand!" and who I later heard was said to have molested one of my good friends from the Junior Improvement Ladder, a girl who was even younger than me.

Moral of the story: Guys in pooka-shell necklaces are hot, never trust a man who is afraid to slice his forehand.