Inciting an Insane (and luckily transient...)
urge to tear the house apart, I was watching the national news on Friday night when ABC names Billie Jean King as their person of the the week. Somewhere, in some box of my stuff, is the the BJK autograph that I got when I was in high school. I think she was the first celebrity I ever met. (I'm not counting Henry Aaron who I would see in the local grocery from time to time when I was little. I didn't understand the celeb stuff at that point and not being a hard core baseball fan, seeing him didn't make me feel faint the way I did when I met Billie Jean.) Oh, the memories. For a few minutes I was living back in high school. Everything was tennis then.

I still bristled a little when they talked about all the girls in post-Title IX today who don't know who BJK was and what she did for girls in sports. But I think we, the girls of the '70's, had more fun. We loved tennis. We played for the love of the game. Girls have more opportunities for sports advancement today, but when I've been to high school events, the girls don't look like they are having a lot of fun. They look dead serious and that makes me kind of sad. It's all kinda moot for me since I never coulda been a contender, possessing more heart than talent. So I'm not mourning missed personal opportunities. But are there adequate opportunities today for the mediocre? For those who deadly seriousness ends at the end of the match? Who know that wacking a fuzzy yellow ball or any other piece of sports equipment, for that matter, will never help underwrite their higher education?

Oh, well. Since I'm feeling nostalgic, I'll go grab the new can of tennis balls out of the closet. And if I don't have a chance to hit a few, I'll bury my nose in the can and breathe deep one of the most delicious smells around. (OK, so I'm a little strange. I rank the smell of tennis balls in the top fragrances, right along with roses, the lovely odor of a baby's head, and Magic Markers...)