The Cynwyd Club

A good part of my dad's life revolved around tennis - he played regularly into his 70s. When I moved to West Linn I bought a house that was on the same block as the neighborhood association tennis courts partly so my dad could come over and play on the weekends.
He was a 'crafty' player - always thinking many moves ahead. He could place the ball exactly where he wanted and never gave you an easy shot. And no matter where you hit it he was already there waiting for it. It was incredibly frustrating... I only ever beat him once - I was in my mid 30s and he was in his mid 60s. He probably wasn't feeling well that day :-)

But back to my childhood:
Upon arriving in Havertown we joined the Cynwyd Club. It was a very exclusive and expensive tennis and squash club in Bala Cynwyd (about 6 miles from our house). The club pro, Norman Bramall, was a legend, having trained a number of top players including a Wimbledon men's singles champion and 7 women's squash champions. (He was the guy I took lessons from.)

The first few times we went to the Club my dad took both my sister and I along. (My mom never went.) He'd be on one side of the net with a gym bag full of balls and my sister and I would be on the other and he'd hit soft shots to us.
It was pretty obvious from the start that my sister wasn't trying very hard... If the ball wasn't right to her she'd just watch it go by... Dad would yell "What was wrong with that one???" and she'd reply "I didn't think I could reach it".
One day there was a short break while dad was refilling the ball bag so I wandered over to sis and said "You know... If you don't start trying a bit harder dad is going to stop bringing you along". She replied: "That's what I'm counting on..." It didn't take too long for her to get her wish :-)

But life at the club did tend to get boring... Dad and I would play a bit but then his tennis buddies would show up and they'd play for hours. Sometimes I'd find another kid to play with, but adults had priority on the courts so we'd always get 'preempted'. I mostly amused myself by wandering around the club and watching people do whatever they were doing. But here's the cool part:
There were courtesy phones all over the club and when I got hungry all I had to do is pick one up and say something like "This is Master G*****. I'd like a cheeseburger, some fries and a chocolate shake on the veranda. Put it on my father's tab..." And about 15 minutes later a servant would deliver my food on a silver tray. Then when the monthly statement came my dad would rant "When did you eat all those cheeseburgers??" But I'm sure my food bill was a pittance compared to his bar tab :-)

Of course, there was a lot of socializing. I couldn't help but notice my dad's flirting - that was the way he was and it seemed innocent enough. (My mom would routinely interrogate me about it...) And when the men needed an escape from the 'refined atmosphere' of the club they could head down to the the mens' locker room. It was equipped with couches, a big TV (to watch sports) and a card table - that's where all the cursing, beer drinking and poker happened. I learned some new words there :-)

I do remember one incident that both puzzled and angered me:
My dad was a huge fan of Bart Starr (Green Bay Packers) and was always talking about what a great quarterback he was. One day we were having lunch with one of the Cynwyd Club board members who (in my opinion) was a loud, obnoxious, abrasive jerk. And at some point the conversation got around to football. I chimed in about what a great quarterback Bart Starr was. 'Mr. Obnoxious' told me I didn't know what I was talking about - Bart Starr was a worthless hack - Y.A. Tittle (NY Giants) was by far the best QB in pro football.
So I sat there waiting for my dad to back me up, but instead he went into 'butt kissing' mode and completely agreed with 'Mr. Obnoxious'! So my dad let this guy treat me like an idiot for echoing his opinions and then he hung me out to dry!!!
I'm sure there was some reason why dad couldn't risk pissing the guy off (proposing new members tended to be highly political) but it was still a complete shock to me. That was the first (but not the last) time I was 'thrown under the bus' by someone I expected to have my back...

The last year we lived in Havertown (when dad was unemployed) the Cynwyd Club membership was the one thing he absolutely would not consider parting with. He pretty much stopped taking me along - the club became his last refuge as our lives fell apart...