Morgan Hill Review

When I was a kid my father got me a job as a ball boy at a big tennis match in San Francisco. I don’t remember the name of tournament because another name dwarfed it in my mind even then: John McEnroe. Yep, I was gonna get the opportunity to shag balls for the infamous McEnroe who had recently been booed by the crowd at Wimbledon. Alas, it was not to be. My father never showed up that day – an all too common occurrence. He did, however, call me a few days later, telling me, as always, that something had come up but that he would make it up to me. I agreed that I understood and asked for only one thing in return: a trip to The Championships, Wimbledon.

My father not getting me those Wimbledon tennis tickets was only one of many disappointments in my young life. I didn’t even remember his promise until I was eating dinner outside the Community Park Tennis Courts this afternoon, having lunch. Z may not have the desire to fly all the way to London to see people play tennis. But I still know I’m doing everything possible to get her the tickets that do matter to her. Maybe by seeing the joy and wonder on her face next week I’ll be able to regain some of the childhood joy I would have had at Wimbledon.

Tags: event, memories, Morgan Hill Community Park Tennis Courts, tennis, tickets, Wimbledon