It was a gray morning in Marin County and the wind was howling on the tennis court. I was waiting for Matt “Doc” Montana, a middle-aged bespectacled man that I had just met, to serve. We were starting a set of doubles, but it was tough to focus because a guy behind me was bench pressing a picnic table.
Also, behind Doc, an endless stream of men were running/jogging/trudging around a makeshift track. And to my right, people were sitting in bolted-down barber chairs getting haircuts. Behind the haircuts, a full-on baseball game, complete with umpires, was about to start.
Doc, no stranger to all of this activity, unleashed a tailing serve to the corner of the service box. I hit a weak, fluttering return that James Duff, his springy younger partner, smacked away with authority for a winner…