“Something about him looked familiar, I could swear I’d seen his face before.” Harry Chapin, Taxi.

“Tony this is Les, Les this is Tony.”

Joel gave us a quick introduction as we started our tennis warm-up this past Tuesday night. Tony was subbing for Nate, or for Allen, or for Kathie…I leave it to Joel to reserve the court and figure out who is playing on any given week.

Tony was a pretty big guy, hard to miss on a tennis court. He had a face I thought I had seen before, but I really couldn’t place him.

When all of us were suitably warmed up and we approached the net he asked me once again what my name was.

“Les,” I said.

Tony replied, “I don’t know if you remember, but five years ago…”

March, 2018.

Barb and I were playing with our Sunday morning tennis group. There were 16 of us in the pack, mostly regulars. We rotated through courts of mixed doubles and one court where Dick the crotchety senior tennis instructor would lead drills. In the drills, we practiced our shots while Dick made comments about our ethnic heritages, our footgear, and whichever young ladies had caught his eye that day. Occasionally he even gave some tennis pointers. Dick was that kind of guy.

I completed my half hour of drill time on court 1 and rotated over to Court 3 for my first mixed doubles of the morning. I don’t recall who my opponents were, but my partner was a relative newcomer to the group, a big fellow named Tony.

I was handling the Add side of the court, with Tony patrolling the Deuce half. We were both close to the net when one of our opponents put up a deep, lob, high enough to be over big Tony’s head. Without turning he took one step back, then another, and another.

It was on about the third step that something went wrong. As I watched from about ten feet to Tony’s left, I saw him stumble and fall backward. His arm flailed out behind him, and we all heard a crack.

Tony was helped off the court and escorted to a hospital gig. We heard through the grapevine that he had needed surgery to repair broken bones in his elbow or forearm — the rumor mill wasn’t quite sure. And that was the last I saw of big Tiony.

That is, the last until this Tuesday evening.

Tony, I’m glad to see you are still playing tennis and still have a pretty good game. For those few minutes five years ago you were my partner, and as Sam Spade said in The Maltese Falcon when something bad happens to your partner you are supposed to do something about it. I wasn’t able to do anything back then, but if you play with us again, let me buy you a drink.

But please be careful next time you go back for a lob!!

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