Recapturing the Locker Room Culture

Dear Reader,

Below is a letter I sent to my league teammates at the end of our tennis league season along with the photo you see.  We made it to the district championships that lasted 3 days and the photos correspond to the 6 of us that played each successive day, from top to bottom.  Be aware it is crass and contains cursing so if you want to abandon ship now, I shall think no less of you.  I have also written footnotes at the end of the letter to better illuminate who these people are and help with the “inside” jokes.

A tennis league is similar to any Bowling, hockey, or softball beer league.  You have a goup of dudes who played sports their whole lives and want to continue to have a competitive outlet and sense of camaraderie (outside of work) that can only be found amongst other athletes.  Guys tease each other mercilessly in these situations, but it comes from a place of goodwill and trust that is established over time.  Otherwise, it doesn’t work. This letter was written in that spirit.

For the record, we went 0-3 in Districts, winning only 2 out of 9 matches.

An Open Letter to My 8.5 Districts Teammates

“Gentlemen, it was an honor getting my ass kicked with you in 8.5 Combo Districts.  As you know, this was my maiden voyage down the districts road and I was forewarned that an ass kicking was likely, regardless of my optimism and enthusiasm.  I personally took two ass kickings, but strangely enough I managed to win a match with my 60 year old gay lover, CoCo.

You can never predict how things might pan out when the season starts. There are just too many unknowns. Nobody, however, could have predicted the season long love affair that developed between a 60 year old Billy Idol wannabe and a wholesome kid from Colorado.   Hell, I hated him the first time I first met him several years ago as a new member of the club.  After 15 minutes of not shutting up, he left my wife and I alone and went his way.  I turned to Nikki and said, “Who the fuck was that douche”?  Incredibly, despite the shaky start to our relationship, we flourished together and went undefeated in match play, leaving every single opponent with a bewildered look on their face, slowly shaking their head and asking, “What the fuck just happened”?  My favorite was the pirate “Z” from the Napa team telling Chris (in his heavy accent), “You are shit, your partner is the 4.5.  All this slicing and dicing bullshit…”  I don’t know if T-Bone and Coco will thrive in the future, but it was one hell of a run.

As for our midget Co-captain, I expected a little bit more from a guy who claims to have played Sampras and Todd Martin.  Perhaps the results were the same then as they were this weekend, I don’t know, he’s never mentioned the scores.   I’ll forever be grateful, though, for his unending reserve of wisdom in regards to tennis.   He’s always analyzing, always thinking, and I will take that with me moving forward.  One of my favorites from him is this:  “You remember that incredible Davis Cup match between Mcenroe and Wilander?  Boy, that was a great match”.  That will always be incredibly useful for me on the court moving forward.  Thank goodness he’ll be the Captain for the next 4.5 league.

In regards to our other Co-Captain, Pedro Seck-A-Leck, I will never forget the wisdom he imparted on us about how to beat a traffic ticket.  Nay, how to “lessen” the financial impact of a ticket.  In a nutshell, the key is to show up and argue just long enough until the exasperated judge says, “Will you shut up if I reduce the ticket amount”?  I think we can all relate to the judge. I’m glad I learned this on the ride down to districts Sunday morning so the trip wasn’t a complete waste of time.   The time spent talking about the tickets was longer than the amount of time we were on the court together.  It’s unofficial, but we think we may have set a districts record for shortest time playing.  I’m sure Pedro will research that and lay it all out for us in the upcoming weeks.

I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the fantastic matches I played with the Massage Therapist, Mike Wilson, and rabid ABBA fan Alan Johnson.  Mike and I managed to get to a third set tiebreaker before succumbing to the precision volleys of Yoshi.  Despite the loss, I can take solace in the fact that Mike offered Coco and I one free couples massage valid for one year.  As for Alan, my greatest regret for the season is that we didn’t make one tightly strung Frenchman cry during the Silverado match.  Not every wish comes true, I guess.  We were so close.

I never got to play with Fernando, but I can thank him for being the inspiration behind the never-ending ABBA loop that plays in my head every second he’s around.  Check out his song, “Fernando”, you’ll dig it.   Lance, thank you for being the multi-talented utility player for the team.  You can do it all.  I’ll never forget the day you played a home match and then immediately came over and cut my grass.  It’s pure creative genius that you would think to play in cargo shorts so you wouldn’t have to change uniforms for your landscaping business.  Although we never played together, I’ll always have fond memories of playing on the court next to yours and watching John Daly fire forehand rockets mercilessly at your head.  It still brings a smile to my face.

Although I’m sad to see Lewis leaving tennis, I’ll be intently tracking his new career as an ice dancer.    Against all odds, he managed to lose a match while playing with Drew.  Again, we’ll need our statistician, Pedro, to check this out, but we’re pretty sure this has never happened before.  I suppose, Like Andy Roddick, he knew there was no point in continuing to play against the best if he couldn’t win with the best.  Good luck and godspeed, Lewis.

James, I’ll be sad to see you leave as well.  Your loyalty to Rancho Solano tennis is legendary.  I know you had a lot of opportunities to play for other teams over the years, yet you remained steadfast in your commitment to Rancho.   I can’t thank you enough for drinking all of our free beer and never bringing anything in return.  I know your SoCal teammates will love that quality as well.

Finally, I would like to acknowledge our 21 year old illiterate, virgin, Team Captain, Drew.  Your leadership in guiding our team was absolutely instrumental to our success.   Your delegation skills will go down in Rancho history as the greatest ever.  It was truly inspirational watching you shirk your duties until the last minute each week until Pete jumped in and took control of the scheduling and lineups.  I’m sure the entire team will echo my sentiments as I raise my glass in a toast and loudly declare, “Drew, this won’s four yu!!”

In closing I think it should be known that this season has been the most fun I’ve had in league play ever.  I sincerely enjoyed the camaraderie and the tennis.  Enjoy the photos and I hope they bring a smile to your face from time to time.”

The Fellas:

Chris Cole (Coco) – Top photo  (First on left) -  I really didn’t like Chris the first time I met him.  He comes across as somewhat smarmy and overconfident.  It’s not until Nikki and I watched him perform as the lead singer of a working band that I came to understand his personality.  He’s a showman, and he’s good at what he does.  This skinny white dude cranks out jazz standards and old soul music with incredible ease.  He and I got paired up as a doubles team and had early success (we were undefeated when we played with each other).  Very quickly we became known as Coco and T-Bone, the lovebirds.  These things develop organically and you can’t fight them.  The more you fight the worse it becomes, so we went with it.  The "pirate" I reference is a foul natured guy with a pony tail.  Chris is unconventional in the way he plays and it pissed "Z" off.   He was insulting Chris by telling him I was the 4.5 player (This is a combo league that paired up one 4.0 player (me) and one 4.5 player).

Brad Mills (midget) – Bottom photo (First on left) – Brad is a sweetheart of a guy, and short (5’5”). He played junior tennis is Southern California and says he played against some future pros, notably Pete Sampras.  He is full of trivial facts (string tensions of players) and says blatantly obvious things, but we all love him. He sales and manages real estate.

Pete Sekelick (Pedro Sek-A-Lek) – Bottom Photo (Third from right) – Pete is a lawyer and loves to argue.  He’ll argue about anything and everything.   If you say the sky is blue, he’ll do the research and provide the documentation as to why it’s actually “light blue”.  In addition, he provides weekly scouting reports on upcoming opponents, breaking down their records and tendencies.  He's into minutiae. He butts heads with every single team captain in the league.  Go figure.

Mike Wilson (Massage Therapist) – Middle Photo (Third from left) – Mike is a chiropractor so naturally he gets teased as being a “massage therapist” in the same way a dentist gets ribbed about being a “Medical Doctor”.   He is one of the most positive guys you’ll ever meet.

Alan Johnson (Medium Al) – Middle Photo (Third From right) – I originally knew Alan as “Big Al”.  That’s what everybody called him when I was new to the league. He lost a bunch of weight and now he’s affectionately known as “Medium Al”.  In one match we played a doubles team with a French guy.  He was a big hitter, but also a head case.  At one point he missed a ton of consecutive serves and had to be consoled by his partner.  We're confident that if the match had gone longer he would have cried. Alan does some sort of work in the IT field.

Fernando Delmendo (‘Do) – Top Photo (Third from left)- Growing up in our house there was a lot of ABBA being played.  I must have heard “Fernando” a million times so that’s the first thing that pops into my whenever I hear the name.  I was playing with “Big Al” one match and I started singing that song because Fernando was on the court next to us.  We had a good laugh about it and I ended up making a copy of ABBA’s greatest hits for him.  I don’t think Fernando likes it, but as I said, you can’t fight these things.  Fernando is a lawyer for a big corporation.

Lance Wong – Top Photo (First on right) – For some reason Lance wears cargo shorts when he plays tennis.  That’s the kind of thing you would expect to see at the public courts, not at a fitness club.  To his credit, he has stuck with the shorts despite our protests.   I don’t think we have a nickname for him, we just like to make fun of his shorts.  He and Fernando played against a guy in districts who looked quite similar to the golfer, John Daly.  This guy was hitting absolute missiles from the forehand side.  Lance said his only goal for the match was to not move backwards from the net, lest he appear intimidated. He’s the CFO for a building materials company.

Lewis Broschard – Middle Photo (First on left) – Lewis has a great sense of humor and is extremely self deprecating.   Last year he went something like 0-8 in League play because he was paired with a super senior (65+) who didn’t move well.  He didn’t enjoy it.  This year, for districts, he got to play with the best player (Drew), by far, at the club.  He said if he couldn’t win a match with Drew he was selling his rackets and taking up ice dancing.  He promptly lost.  Lewis is a Fire Chief.

James Lee – Bottom Photo (First on right) – James is in the process of moving to Southern California for a new job and this will likely be the last season he plays at our club.  In a desperate attempt to move up to a 4.5 rating, he played with several other 4.0 teams that he thought had more potential.  He did eventually make it to 4.5, but we have to give him crap about it.  In all fairness the talent pool at any given rating ebbs and flows with time so sometimes you have to make a jump to another team.  It’s quite common.

Drew Collin – Bottom Photo (Second from right) – Drew was the team captain for this league in name only.  I’m pretty sure Pete and/or Brad did most of whatever a captain has to do for these leagues.  All the e-mails came from Drew, though, and they all contained gross misspellings and grammatical errors.  As far as we can tell, Drew hasn’t had much success hooking up with women so we like to give it to him a little bit.  He’s a good kid, though.

Drunk Hockey: Bad. Old Friends: Good.

"Dude, did you punch me in the ribs last night?", I asked, only half-jokingly.  I was still in a bit of a beer haze at 8:00 AM Central Time.  I rolled over to get up and found that my right leg hurt quite a bit as well.

"No, but I wish I had some video of you skating, it was sweet!" he said as he let out a laugh.  "Let's go, we're supposed to be over there soon".

Ah, the laugh.  That's the Reid.  Justin Reid. Todd if you piss him off.  Laser if he's skating.  He moved next door when he was 4 and I was 6.  We've been good friends ever since.   He's been in Minnesota for the past 16 years so we haven't seen each other a lot, but in recent years we've picked up the activity.  He came to California last year so it was my turn to go to Minnesota this year.  We deliberately chose January because it figured to be prime hockey time.  We both learned to skate a little over the years but never had the chance to play hockey together.

"Over there" was the pond rink we spent two hours flooding the night before, which caused my drunken state, which led to sore ribs and a mammoth contusion on my right leg.  His buddy Brad recommended we flood it to get rid of the snow and slush on top to make it "smooth" for the next morning (*1).  With that in mind Justin picked me up from the airport and we went straight to the rink. 

When we got to Brad's house we put our winter gear on and went about getting the hose hooked up and down to the rink.   I studied hydraulics in college so I know a little bit about this kind of thing.  Let's see 300 feet to the rink, 4 GPM hose, 3,000 SF of ice....

"Dude, that's gonna take a long fu%$in' time".  (I got a C in the class, that was the best I could muster). 

I was worried about losing skating time so I was a bit exasperated.

"There's a keg in the house, we should be good", he replied.

"Sweet!"  I used his word because it seemed so right. 

 Almost everything in life is "sweet" to the Reid, whereas I see most things as a pain in the ass.  Given any situation, his response will most likely be, "Sweet, let's do it."  I'll tell you 50 reasons why it's not possible.  He'll go solve the problem.  Completely different world views in that sense.

A view of the pond rink looking down from the house.

This is when I had an inkling  this flooding process would be long.  Good thing the keg is nearby!

Fire Captain Reid doing what comes naturally.  This is the corner where my skate fell through.

As it turns out, my calculations were correct and it did take a "really long Fuc%&in' time" to flood the ice (about 2.5 hours), but it was good for the soul.  We talked and laughed as if we were still 10 years old.  I completely forgot about skating. I was catching up with an old friend over a few beers and I didn't give a crap.   I must admit, though, I was a little concerned with the condition of the ice, seeing as how I have some expertise in this area (*2).   It didn't seem like what we were doing was right.

"You wanna go skate at the park rink downtown", he asked.

"Sweet, let's do it!", I said, knowing it would be ugly.  His optimism was already growing on me.

We went.  I fell down often.  My ribs hurt.  My leg hurt.  It was cold.  I went to bed.  I woke up sore. I remember texting Reid at about 2:00 AM, "When you wake up, please bring aspirin".

In the morning we rallied and headed down to the pond rink and nobody was there for our scheduled game.  I get the feeling these pond hockey arrangements are mere guidelines to suggest that there is the possibility a game may be played if people show up.  I'm pretty sure an affirmative reply isn't binding.

We put our skates on anyway and did the best impression of hockey players we could muster. Damned if I'm coming to Minnesota without skating on a pond!  As expected the surface was terrible.  The cracks didn't freeze over, it was bumpy, and my skate fell through up to my boot in one of the corners.  The laser was in good form, though.  He's known as a "straight line" skater with tons of heart and hustle.  Hands need some work.

We lasted about 5 minutes before we packed up and headed over to the park rink where the ice was perfectly manicured.  We managed to find a 3-on-3 game and were promptly schooled by the locals, including a 12 year old kid.  The laser was solid in goal, sans pads.  He managed to make a few glorious runs up the ice, despite the crease in his hockey boot.

"Dude, I can't turn left", he kept telling me.

"Let me see your skate", I said.  He handed it over and there were obvious creases near the ankle.

"You have zero ankle support, that's why you can't turn.  You need new skates".

"Sweet!", he said and vowed to get new skates and practice more than one time a year.

I was a little shocked at my inability to be effective in the game.  After all, I spent several hours breaking down the skating and stick handling of Peter Forsberg, but it didn't seem to translate to the ice.  I guess I'll break down Patrick Kane next time.  He's a more modern player.

"Laser" on the pond rink. 

A miracle photo because the puck immediately rolled and bounced away on the rough surface.

This is my absolute best impression of a hockey player.  This was at the park where the ice was incredible.

A small goal at the park rink.  There was a huge open surface and you can see the boards in the background where the hockey rink is.  The open surface is where I tried to commit suicide by skating.

After a couple days of skating we went indoors and played tennis.  This is the sport we spent hundreds of hours practicing together.   I did it for fun, playing only one tournament in my life (*3).  Justin played through high school.  He had moved away by then so I didn't get to see those matches, but as I understand it, "Todd" was known to appear during these high school matches due to frustration from losing.  "Todd" punched out Justin's car windshield one time after losing a match.  What a dick.

"What happened during those times?", I asked.

"I don't know, it just seemed like I should have been better than I was.  When it didn't happen, Todd came out."

"Todd" never made an appearance on the courts while we were playing.  It was pure fun and a lot of laughing and joking.  Justin's much calmer now and more mature.  Plus, he's a father of two and has to set an example.  He tells me, though, that his 14 year old has the ability to make "Todd" appear.  I guess that's natural.  That's what I hear anyway.

As we were saying our goodbyes at the airport I looked at him and told him that this trip was good for my soul.  Relationships are the only thing that matter.  I think we all come to this realization as we get older.

"Dude, we need to make sure we do this once a year", I said.  "How about you come to California again next year?"

"Sweet, let's do it!"

This is not "Todd".   This is Justin.

Jackson, his 14 year old son.

"Sweet, let's do it"

Lily, Justin's daughter.

(*1) This is my first experience with pond hockey, but I'm pretty sure there is no such thing as "smooth" ice on one of these rinks.   In addition to the uneven snow on top, long cracks in excess of 3/4" in width were clearly visible and the water we flooded it with remained unfrozen the next morning.  How the hell does water not freeze overnight in 20 degree weather?  Now I know why California friend Brian Peck, originally from that area' said, "Good luck with your blades" when I told him I was there.

(*2) When we first moved to California in 1998 I was in the prime of my hockey obsession.  I became a "skate guard" at the Vacaville rink because that meant I could play pick-up hockey for free.  As such, I got to drive the Zamboni at the end of the night so the ice would be ready in the morning.  The instruction I was given in regards to the operation of the Zamboni were quite informal, seeing as how they were given by a 15 year old.  I managed to steer clear of trouble for awhile but eventually got the auger stuck while on the ice and that was the end of my Zamboni driver days.

(*3) At some point I thought I was good enough to play a tournament so I signed up in a local USTA event.   My opponent walked onto the court with boat shoes.  The brown leather kind that were prominent in the 80's.  I'm not exaggerating one tiny bit.  He kicked my ass and that was the last tournament I ever played until I played USTA leagues at age 40.

Kardashian's Teeny Weenie

Be honest with me and let me know if you opened up the link strictly based on the headline.  If you did, go sit in the corner and feel shame (Slapshot reference, hey-o!)

What follows are a bunch of "family photos" from our trip to Stinson Beach.  This is the digital version of the dreaded event that commonly took place about 30 years ago.  The good news is that now you aren't invited to our house under false pretenses and then subjected to hours of after dinner crap you never wanted to see in the first place.  If you're here, I'll assume it's by choice, enjoy.

We've taken these end of year trips for about 4 years now, coinciding with my birthday.  The premise this year was to go somewhere relatively flat with easy access for our 13 year old girl, Bella.  Renting houses instead of staying in hotels has been a game changer in the way we enjoy the experience and this one was not a disappointment.  There's a lot to be said about cooking your own meals at the end of the day with the people you have chosen to be around.   No loud talkers, no up-talkers, no full-of-shitters, no liars (unless these are your people, in which case we're probably not friends anyway). We've done it with friends in the past and this time it was just Nikki and I.  Both are good experiences.  What follows are some our favorite shots from the trip.   Be aware there will be shots that are photographically cliché (and perhaps trite), but that's what happens on vacations.  You see sunsets and you photograph them.  Oh yeah, you'll also see a lot of dog photos as well (sometimes at sunset or sunrise).

The house was relatively small and this was the most important part of it.  We were either on the beach or watching the beach from the window.  Directly behind us was the kitchen, but who gives a crap about a photo of a kitchen?

We could see the young Bella while on this trip.  The beach never seems to lose its appeal for any creature, young or old.

I was surprised to see Bella retrieve a thrown rock on this early morning jaunt.

I liked the way the foam encircled her on this shot.  The tree in the background is the original Bonsai tree from the "Karate Kid" movie.

Cliche warning!  Footprints in the sand.  Which ones belong to Jesus?

This is a shot Nikki took and she's very proud of it. This one is in focus!  I always tell her, "Put the red square on my face", but it doesn't always work.  This is taken when we went hiking up in the hills near the beach.  It's converted to sepia due to my extremely pasty and pale skin color.

Official "farkle" score cards.  Two in a row for me, according to the official scorekeeper, which was me.  Great, fast paced game for parties.  Google it.

We found this crab flipped over on its back.  I turned it over and it moved.  I may have squealed.  I imagined him having a french accent.  Bella came over and had a sniff, but the crab didn't have the energy to try and pinch her.  I threw it back in the water, but he washed back up (on his back) and was devoured by the seagulls.  There must be a tenderloin on the underside towards the bottom because that's what the birds hit first.

The rocks and sand matched Bella.  No brainer to include this one.

She retrieved a bigger rock this time.  Surprised again.

This is what I'm used to seeing.  Sticks have always been her thing.  I imagine her having an east coast accent in this shot.  Right now she's saying, "Hey, fongul!!!"

There are hundreds of old artillery positions in and around the San Francisco hills and they are nearly all universally grafitti'd.  I have no idea why I struck this half assed Emminem wannabe, hip-hop, knock-off pose.   The colors of the graffiti matched my shirt, though!

Another portrait that Nikki was very proud of.  I must admit, I like it as well.  Like many folks, I pick apart most portraits taken of me, but this one turned out nice.  We were both practicing making sure our jaw lines were prominent, which they say is one of  the keys to a good portrait.

Same spot, Nikki's turn.

Sunrise with Daniel Larusso's tree in the background.  The bird in the middle just asked the one to the right about the tenderloin on the crab with the french accent.

Some dude in a cowboy hat was fishing in the early morning.  I like to make up stories about absolute strangers so I'll say this about him:  He recently moved to California from Montana because of his work.  He prefers fly fishing, but any day he can put a line in the water beats a day without fishing.   He had to leave early to meet a client but planned on fishing again around 4:30, right at dusk.  He's sort of boring, which makes meeting women a huge challenge.  His profile can be found on match.com.  Search "boring,cowboy,montana,heath ledger,jake gylennhaall,confused".

This is not just another cliche sunrise shot.  There is a little nugget behind the back wave in the top right quadrant of the shot:  I inadvertently captured a dolphin.   It's small, I know, but I didn't plan on it.  For those doubters in the audience, I was shooting in rapid fire mode and in the photo immediately before this one, you can see the wave with no dolphin.

A bird sits in repose amongst an oil slick from a negligent oil company.  We later cleaned him off with Dawn (TM) and nursed him back to health.  Just kidding.

I love the fact that all animals have the "play" gene.  There is no biological reason for this bird to keep this ball, but he tossed it around and then took off with it like a kid taking his ball and going home.

Sunset cliche alert!!

This little girl was fascinated with these gigantic bubbles.  I was set up to shoot long exposure sunset shots when I wheeled around and saw her chasing the bubbles.  This is after sunset so I had to change the settings from (insert some camera geek talk) to (more camera geek talk) to get the shot.  I was pretty proud that I damn near got her in focus.

This might be my favorite shot from the trip.  Those colors aren't photoshopped in any way, that's the real deal.  Any number of religious, self-help, inspirational memes could be used in conjunction with this shot.  That is a random kid who climbed up the "ladder" and put his arms out as seen.  I shot this through the window of the house.

This is the second night and the sunset wasn't quite as brilliant as the first.   I was taking long term exposures (30 seconds) to get that dreamy look in the water.  I liked the shot but thought it needed a little extra "something" so I decided to put myself in the shot.  That's me standing there for 30 seconds. I liked the result.

Cliche window shot!  I bet there's not a woman who viewed this photo who didn't go "Awwwww.........".  That's what we call a crowd pleaser.  This was right before we had to leave and Nikki told me I had one shot.  This was it.