My second class of the day at North Texas back in the spring of 1972 was tennis...I took it primarily because I needed PE credit and I'd been playing the game since I was 5 years old - so it was kind of a "no brainer".
You know - despite all my years of playing I really wasn't that good :-) I had a horrible tendency to muff easy shots, and my backhand was atrocious... I attribute the latter to my dad's insistence on proper form, which (in those days) meant never using a 2 hand grip... Those wooden rackets were so heavy I tended to just kind of "chop" the backhand rather than swinging through the ball. It was a bad habit I never managed to cure.
On a positive note, I also had a tendency to make "impossible" shots and that can be attributed to my dad as well... I'm sure I mentioned this before: My dad played tennis like he played chess - always thinking a number of moves ahead. Unless you managed to get him out of position with your serve - which was almost impossible - you were toast. He would run you ragged "painting the edges" of the court. He never (intentionally) gave me a clean shot (even as a small child)... I suspect that's why I had so much trouble with "easy" returns. I wasn't used to having time to think before hitting the ball. I was much more accustomed to swatting in desperation while running or lunging :-)
As a result I would routinely beat players who were "technically" much better than me, which would infuriate them - and (of course) amuse me :-)
But my biggest problem with "Tennis 101" had nothing to do with the class itself. It was a matter of geography: As a new student I was unaware that the tennis complex and the language building were at opposite corners of the campus (more than half a mile apart) and I had scheduled Tennis and French back-to-back and I only had 10 minutes to get from one to the other.
Now -I could make it on foot if I ran most of the way but I preferred not to haul my tennis gear around and I didn't like showing up for French sweaty and out of breath :-) And driving was just barely better because there wasn't anywhere to park near the language building and all the lots on campus tended to be pretty full in the early afternoon. But I finally figured out that there were usually some empty spots in a lot that was about a 4 minute walk from class, and if I drove somewhat "decisively" I could usually make it on time :-)
And it was during one of those quick trips that I got pulled over by a campus cop for not coming to a full stop at an intersection... Now - I swear this next part is true: We were standing on the sidewalk next to my car and he was getting ready to write me a ticket when a crowd started to gather. (It was between classes and we were right in the middle of the campus.) Next thing I knew people were screaming things like: "F*cking pig!!! Why are you hassling him???" ... It got really ugly, really fast... At that point he told me to just get in my car and leave. So yeah - I got out of the ticket which was cool because I really couldn't afford it... But I have to admit I almost felt sorry for the campus cop. That must've been a really sucky job back in those days : -)
Finally - at the end of the semester we had a tournament. I actually made it to the semi-final round but had to forfeit due to injury. Here's the story:
The day after the quarter-final Steve, Robert and I were out at Hickory Creek (east of Argyle). There was a stretch where the bank was 20 feet high and there was a spot right by the bank where the creek was about 6 feet deep. So, we were climbing the bank (which was almost vertical) and jumping into the "deep" spot :-) Yeah - you had to "ball up" the instant you hit the water to avoid slamming into the bottom... But that's not how I got hurt.
We were using a sharp screwdriver to carve holes into the bank for hand and foot holds. One of the ones near the bottom needed to be "freshened up" so I asked Steve (who was on top of the bank) to toss me down the screwdriver and I inadvertently caught it blade first... It took a big chunk out of the palm of my left hand. (Yes - I'm a southpaw.)
There was no way I could hold a tennis racket, but it was just as well... It would've taken an "act of God" for me to beat my semi-final opponent anyway.
And that was almost exactly 40 years ago... Wow... Where did the time go?
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That poor campus cop! I'm surprised that the even in Texas students were so bold.
Your tennis technique sounds pretty hilarious. It sort of makes me wish I'd played with you more than I did. I don't think I ever played again after I stepped on that ball and twisted my ankle and that was probably only the first or second time I ever played. :-)
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