The session is moving along, I was out picking up balls and the corn is very high across the street. The tall corn makes Mr. B. very happy, the taller the corn the shorter the time till the annual trip to the Jersey shore. He's been whistling a lot and thats another sure sign that things are going well.
I sat with Bevin this morning at breakfast, for once we really got talking. She said something to the affect that we could have gone out all summer but that I was too big of a flirt. Had I known that I was that big of a flirt and that she was the least bit interested Im sure I would have been less interested in all the girls...especially Pat and the Haggerstown gal.
I told Mr. B. the sad tale and he chuckled all the way through the story. He thinks I need a seeing eye dog and tin cup, that it was obvious that she was interested, he said that she is so unique and special that theres no way that she would ever consider a flirty guy. I chuckled with Mr. B.; he's always right and Bevin is right. Im labeling this the camp romance that almost was.
Im guilty as charged, but is love blind, or in my case blind, love?
All things considered, I've had a great summer. My hair is bleached almost blond, and like my fellow counselors we are bronzed gods. We got to spend a summer on this amazing campus rent free and all meals paid for...we got to play tennis all summer and we got to study under Frank Brennan, does it get any better than this? My other option for the summer was to work construction with my Dad back in Pocatello. I did a couple of days last summer and it was brutal hard work because the laborers carry everything, and fetch everything. Pipefitting is very dirty and the time passes slowly, the hours long. Thank God Charlie Fenske got me this job...a week to go and I still have to be careful not to screw up.
We worked on the serve and overhead, Mr. B has the best description, he says with the overhead put both hands ups, point at the ball and replace one hand with the other...just like swatting a fly in your grandma's kitchen. The demo is always fun to watch because FXB has Riley feed him balls and he crisply smacks overheads to the corners. The ball sound pops beautifully because of flawless technique and immaculately strung racquets. I picked one up while I play with a 4 5/8 grip Kramer, he plays with a Kramer Pro with a size 5 grip. He strings his racquets with expensive narrow guage gut...I think its VS. He let me hit with it and it was like driving a Porche around the block.
Jonathan Mudd sat at my table in Ford for dinner. We talked about the news and all the people he knows at CBS and PBS...its a long and impressive list. Hes not bragging, just stating fact. I told him that one day I want to report, I want to travel the world...so its either be a reporter or a tennis pro...If I were better I would consider being a touring pro...but the fact that Im not good kind of elimates the latter.
Its bed time now and finally the Bevin talk is haunting me, I should have done a lot of things differently, but Im just a blind kid from Pocatello and dont know how these Ivy League girls work. I talked to X about it because he is the master observer of FXB tennis camp. He thinks that I was avoiding Bevin because there was a chance of falling for her and then getting hurt later...Bingo...thats it. That Xavier Combe nailed it, come to think about it, Ive been running from the right girls for years.
Its time for bed, Sanderson is already asleep and snoring, I know Ill be thinking for a few more hours...