Thursday, July 29th, 1977, Mercersburg

We have so many competitive juniors that Mr. B sent us to the High School for the afternoon so the kids could get some playing time on hard courts. They’re all playing in a big national tournament in Cleveland next week and its on Hard courts. I got to go and we got to play afternoon matches with them and I beat Glen a kid that Mr. B. teaches during the year. I barely took him in a competitive match 7-5, 7-5. The kid could play for Idaho State next year, instead he’ll be a sophomore in Franklin Lakes.

Mr. B came by talked to us in the afternoon, he wanted to make sure the kids all had tough matches. Bobby Dickinson played Rick Fanning and barely beat him 7-6, 7-6. Tom Vrana played one of the kids from Hawaii and ran the little guy into the ground but the kid still split sets with him. These are nationally ranked juniors and a handful.

Afterwards I stayed and hit with Pat Rountree. She is such a tall, cute girl and hit’s the ball a ton off her forehand. She’s one of our best counselors on and off the court and Mr. B likes her because she is all business. She runs that girls dorm like a platoon sergeant, and she loves to boss me around but she doesn’t get far, she’s had a crush on me all summer, Mr. B says I should give in, I told him what makes you think I haven’t? He gave me that amused look, he knows everything that goes on here.

Mr. B. told me that Mrs. B was coming down on Saturday, that she was bringing Terence and that they were going out to dinner to some French restaurant in the Maryland countryside on Saturday before she headed back early Sunday morning. He’s excited to see her because I noticed he did his laundry and cleaned up the apartment. Mr. B and laundry should not be mentioned in the same sentence. He washes his socks and underwear in the sink and his tennis shorts in the tub. I offered to take a load with my laundry a few weeks ago but he always refuses. He thinks twenty five cents for a load of laundry is highway robbery and reasons that the air is free.

I sat with X at dinner and we talked a lot about music and again I asked him why Ringo Starr isn’t a great drummer, he gave me that look of his and with great condescension said that he’s a fill drummer that while he’s great at improvisation he's not technically sound. I’ve watched X practice on his pads and he’s precise and perfect like a metronome, I know little but know that X sounds pretty good.

X and I played after dinner and what I thought was going to be an hour set turned into a three hour marathon in which he pulled out a 7-5 win. I had him 6-2 in the first but he ran me corner to corner, drop shot and lobbed me…Im still aching and dirty from gritty clay all over me. I don’t feel bad at all, we both played well. I know to beat him I ‘ll have to keep the ball deeper so he can’t angle me.