KOtC6

KOtC6

**November 14th, 8am-2pm, Eagles Landing, Allen, TX. 

The Royal Court

King Shawn Foster
Prince Marty Feldman
Duke Jason Keck
Earl Joe Vita

King Foster

Prince Feldman

Duke Keck

Earl Vita

For All The French

...when we yell MAHUT! to begin King of the Court 6 later this morning, we will yell it for all the French.  We will scream it with rage and fury, demanding peace.  This seemingly eternal conflict does have an end.  Peace does await.  The longest tennis match in history, between Nicolas Mahut of France and the American John Isner at Wimbledon in the summer of 2010, ended with each emerging legends.  To battle is to move.  To resist is to attack.  Peace comes only when the match is over.  Keep your feet moving forward, go for the low part of the net, let your opponent lose...prayers for Parisians today...Mahut!!!

Morning Draws
  

Justin Huffman           

The Ying and the Yang of Keck

Scott Verdery

Roy Albrecht

Jason Keck

Marty Feldman

Hunter Foster

Paul Gorman

Vito Nguyen

Shawn Foster

Dane Courch

Joe Vita

Vinh Luu

Chris Fess

Berco Neiman

Billy Vita

Bobby Pierson

Rainout Beers 

     like cats it came down.  the October rain was relentless and loud as we sat on the two rows patio in Allen, Texas.  no tennis this night, just some rainout beers with keck and billy vita.  just as well.  we were all in some state of chaos, confusion, or discernment.  keck and his recent brush with tennis humility.  max King had destroyed him.  6-1, 6-0 old style scoring method.  his credentials were discovered only later and included professional status and bent tree certifications.  keck was talking about this guy's game, just better and smarter.  and he was older.  max King was 55, keck estimated.  always pushing forward, always putting shots away at the net.  and spin, and drop shots, and extreme angles.  his was not a game we knew.  and we knew.  keck promised to start working on his net game and asked billy and I for our best pointers.  somehow, I had been blessed with quick feet and soft hands.  once I learned to take a final hop and set myself before my opponent hit an attempt at a passing shot, net play had come easy.  the punch, developed early, and constant forward play only enhanced my ability to win matches.  the kramarian approach, as I've only since discovered.  my advice to keck was just that.  mainly, encouragement was what he needed. being on the losing side of our last mahut, the spur mahut, must have been on his mind as well.  the rainout likely saved me from a wrath.  a keck tennis wrath.  I was happy we were drinking rainout beers instead.  the patio was nice and dry.  the air was cool, but muggy.  the beer menu included Tupps northbound 75, but they were out.  inquiring further, the nice young, smiling, waitress mentioned something about updating the beer menu on which Tupps would not be included.  offended slightly, I politely ordered a dos xx because it was Mexican night.  This was the wednesday before hurricane patricia had everyone worrying and praying for the mexicans and non-mexicans on the mexican west coast.  a dos xx seemed appropriate.  was more offended when she asked me if I knew of tupps, "a little brewery in mckinney."   keck loudly mentioned the sticker on his car.  I said something about swaying California brown and iron art.  where is the loyalty?  updating your beer menu?  from then on, I ordered what keck ordered.  it was all good.  and the waitress was forgiven, especially after she informed us she was not of drinking age, she had never been to Tupps.  she had never seen Chris day's iron.  she had never tasted the black.  delicious.

Tupps, a little brewery in McKinney

   
      Billy's net game advice was more in depth.  I learned a lot sitting at that table.  always go for the center of the net.  the odds are greater.  the angles much better.  and the deep approach of course.  middle, side, either way, just keep the approach deep. he explained in detail the lead up to the hop skip.  his instruction-filled mind and knowledge of the game was apparent.  he had spent time in a classroom, learning from the tennis masters of Philadelphia.  he had learned the game at another level.  he has wisdom to impart.  he watches the tennis channel all day long as he takes conference calls and strings racquets.  cutting edge in everything, especially new technologies.  he is our coach.  but, he had more important and relevant matters on his mind.  his mother-in -law, Bernadette, was in poor health, lung cancer, and her passing, and likely continuing, seemed near.  prayer for the Irish Bernadette, and her family, especially sweet Mary.  lord, be with her.  billy vaped and drank and detailed for keck a net game strategy.  this temporary diversion was healthy for him, knowing the stoicism to come.  obliged or compelled, all will know.

Spur Mahut 2015
Earl Gorman defeats Keck 9-6

   
     my own tennis humility came just a week prior.  at the racquet of billy himself.  I had played well and it didn't matter.  billy broke through.  we had at least 40 deuces in our 20 game mahut.  it went on and on. in the end, billy won more important points and left me trounced, 7-13.  some proactive coaching advice from earlier in the day had me thinking about the psychology of it all.  it is a dangerous place to lurk, but it is required to keep up with the likes of billy vita or his brother Joe or keck or Frank Friday or any tennis royal from the past.  perhaps even one day, max King.  point to point, hour to hour, day to day, year to year.  time will stop if we let it.  it will go away, and shall.  his return of serve has made obvious improvement and his serve is a controlled weapon. his advice was appreciated as KOtC6 was only a month out.  playing as a royal will be new.  this could be it unless I can win again.  perhaps Duke is a possibility this time.  the field may have thinned out.  the likes of King stone, King the Todd, and King james are missing due to other conflicts, some USTA sectional type of sanctification.  and, in King James' case, a road trip to see the once-promising cowboys play the buccaneers in Tampa.  King the Todd sent his brother Marty in his stead, a friend to the Isner methodology and culture. Serving as teammate and coordinator and coach of the Blowfish, we teamed up earlier in the year, along with King the Todd and others, to claim the revered fries cup.  Prince fess is a definite threat to all and everything, he is a determined fighter and hater of evil.  an Earl to Duke ascention would be noteworthy, but it will take big game.  and billy vita wants the Duke.
   
     all who participated in kotc4 remember last November.  all were witness.  the sad sight of keck worrying about the rain and the dry 5 hour window that followed.  Huffman, driving in from grapevine hardly able to see, having faith in tennis.  Vito, Roy, Berco, Fosters, a Dane and Luu too.  many are chasing royalty, but only four will emerge, all led by the King Of The Court.  don't expect rainout beers, there is no cancellation plan.  the beers wait for after.  At Tupps, of course.  A little brewery in McKinney.  Mahut!!!

Spur, TX Courts

The Tennis Underground

     

      in memory of a memorable tennis player, The Fries Cup.  evidently, this guy was quiet a fellow.  his unexpected passing from cancer in his late-ish forties was a cruel demonstration of satan's work.  many, if not everybody, at the event had been impacted personally by this killer.  the cancer fight continues.  and there is victory on both sides, this battleground of our lives.  the war was won long ago.  the destruction and decay we see daily is only the devil's sour grapes.  the builders keep building.  the encouragers keep encouraging.  the war is won.

     tennis folks were all around.  this academy in frisco.  passed right by as I arrived in the morning, it so perfectly compliments the neighborhood.  a tight fit, no chance for indoor courts now.  just play in the mist and train in the rain.  many prodigies.  drills and drills and drills.  didn't see a backboard, but surely there is one.  a small pool, a boutique, rooms of cardio, rooms of weights.  places for private talks, a large entertainment room, flat screens playing u.s. open reruns.  Serena smashing forehands, then later, Novak sliding on the hard court.  his ankles will hurt when he gets old.

     the arrival was a flurry, knowing no one and getting familiar with the place.  walked around like I belonged.  checked in at the registration table, staffed with smiling young ladies scribbling check marks on stapled pages and offering each player an appreciation gift.  Payment was made and change back was refused, give it to the pink fight.  color coordinated teams were all around, which allowed me the opportunity to seek out and introduce myself to the grey wearing Blowfish team.  each of them was nice and courteous.  I quickly checked in with Marty Feldman, older brother of King The Todd, and obvious instigator and insurer of this event.  he was everywhere, carrying bottles of water, behind the scenes, helpful.  The Todd is known by all, even though this is not his home club.  Said hey to Huffman, a King division player in KOtC.  Prince Fess was spotted playing for another team.  He was a title sponsor, complete with a sign on the showcase court.  He knew this Fries guy, as did a few others I spoke with.  an endearing and chatty player, 'not in a bad way, but a funny way, always making little comments.'  His death was a shock just the year before.  Quick and unforgiving.  Esophagus.  A huge poster was displayed with many pink tennis ball stickers full of written prayers and names of loved ones that have battled.  and all battled successfully.  For to battle is to win.  Everlasting life is as good as it seems.

     The format was 4.0 doubles for me.  Three 8 game prosets, no ad.  Each played with a different grey shirt partner.  First match, played with Blake, a member and a very solid player.  A huge backhand and solid serve.  Tall and smooth, and consistent.  Later, he lamented his 'bad knees' and I sensed that as a younger player he was an ace.  Easy going and friendly, we got along right away.  We won our first match 8-2.  Next, I was paired with David.  A player with no second serve, which I admired greatly.  first serves only.  blast after blast after blast.  he was very competitive and focused.  Although we both waited over two hours for our match, we defeated our opponents 8-5 in a highly contested match.  Finally, late in the afternoon, teamed up with Rich to defeat a father son duo in red 8-6.  The young one, 18 or so, seemed put out to be there.  He was easily frustrated, but evidence of a once emerging game was apparent.  his dad later confided, over beers, that his frustrations could have been due to the realization of lost dreams.  Rich was a solid player and fine fellow.  a bit older, sporting ray bans, and a money return of serve on the forehand side.  Going 3-0 in my matches left me feeling like I pulled my weight for the Blowfish team.  Finding out later that our team won the Fries Cup when all the #'s were counted made me even more satisfied.  winning is always better than losing.  points, games, prosets, mahuts, royal titles.  the Earl of Nantucket is on a roll.  it will end, as it does for everyone.  Nadal knows.  McEnroe too, although he is still destroying the likes of Courier, Chang, and James Blake in the master's league.  But, Roddick still has his number.  Along with Isner, he is our only post- Sampras American tennis hero.  the 2002 u.s. open was important to Americans for obvious reasons given the events in New York the year before.  Roddick showed up!

     throughout the day, on the court and on the large porch containing all the idle players, I was asked about where I played out of or which club I was from.  searched for appropriate answers all day.  joining a place never occurred to me.  I have opponents at the ready.  courts are plentiful and accommodating, day or night.  KOtC is established and played twice a year.  Keck and i have Wednesday on the schedule.  Bill Vita same thing with Saturday morning.  Periodic Joe Vita mahuts.  T-Roy.  Bobby.  I stammered and searched for responses.  "I don't really play out of anywhere" to "play around town here and there" to "with some dudes" to "eagles landing" to "public tennis" to " I used to belong to eldorado" to "I might join eldorado" to "the tennis underground", which I stuck with. 

    the idle time, inevitable when 150 players show up to fight the hated cancer, led to significant socializing and drinking time.  I met many fine people.  Bill, who stretched out a wobbly knee with huge leg kicks.  Gil, the old man of our father/son duo, who was in a similar business and knew the Forts of mckinney.  another dude, who told me the story of Doug Fries.  He had tears in his eyes.  Everyone was nice.  Even the SMU tennis team was nice, despite sitting at the same table looking like hired assassins early on.  they loosened up and were scattered throughout the draw, playing for different teams.  they put on a show.  one got hit right in the kisser.  yes, that kisser. poor dude laid on the court for a few minutes, withering in pain.  there was a large crowd gathered.  the oooohhs, the laughs, the awwwws.  he was a good sport and waved to the crowd as he limped to the changeover bench.  the mustangs have a chance to make some noise this year.  poise, empathy, and the look of winners.  other former college players were there.  they reminded everyone of our place.  there is another level and another and another after that.  for now, we play tennis.  Mahut!!