From Winamop.com
The Fearsome Foursome
by Martin Green
The funeral service for Matt Campbell was in the old neighborhoods church. Paul sat in the back. Hed been late, driving from the retirement community he now lived in, about an hour away. At his age, 75, he didnt like to drive on the freeway but he felt he should go to Matts service. He and Matt, along with Bob Simmons and Charlie Foster and been neighbors and fellow tennis players at the old club for, how long was it, maybe 20 years. Bob had since dropped out of sight. Charlie had moved back East. He and Paul exchanged cards on Christmas. In a way it was funny that Matt, who was over six feet tall and the strongest of them was, if Bob was still around, the first to go. But hed been battling lymphoma for years and it had finally gotten him.
The church was surprisingly full. Paul recognized a few people from the old days but most of them were strangers to him, and younger. He did recognize Matts son, sitting up front, with what Paul assumed was his family, a wife, a son and a daughter. When Paul had last seen him Steve had been a kid, now he was a middle-aged man. Steve spoke last, telling everyone what a great father Matt had been. Then it was over.
Paul stood up and waited for his chance and then said hello to Steve. Steve recognized him. Thanks for coming, he said. You and my Dad and those two other guys played a lot of tennis at the old club.
Yes, we did, twice a week for a lot of years, once on Saturday morning and once on Wednesday night.
You were known as the Fearsome Foursome.
I dont know how fearsome we were, but we had a lot of fun.
Steve asked where Paul was living now. Paul told him about the retirement community and that, no, he didnt play tennis any more, hed had a hip replacement a couple of years ago and that was the end for him and that yes, his wife Sally was doing fine. Some other people wanted to speak to Steve and Paul was moved aside. He wandered around for a while, found a couple hed known and talked with them for a bit and found out that yes, the old club was still there but was getting a bit rundown. Thered be some kind of lunch later but Paul decided that hed leave.
In the church parking lot Paul, on an impulse, decided hed drive over to the club, which was only a short distance away. The gate was open and not many cars were in the parking lot. Paul parked and walked over to where the tennis courts were. The club was a small one, five courts. Paul remembered that when they played interclub the other swim and tennis clubs had nice clubhouses while when the other teams came over all they could offer them was a bench, a few plastic chairs and a Coke machine.
Only one court was occupied, a couple of teenagers playing. The others were empty and Paul could see some cracks in them.
Paul watched the teenagers play for a while. They were pretty good. He envied them their youth. Then he looked at one of the empty courts but he wasnt seeing an empty court. Paul crouched down at the net waiting for his partner Matt to serve. Matt always tried to serve hard and was as likely to hit the ball into the net as not. Paul hadnt told this to Matts son Steve.
This serve went over, a hard one to the right corner. Bob, who was short and fast as a rabbit scuttled over and returned it just out of Pauls reach. They hit back and forth until Charlie, who was the best player, hit a good shot to win the point. They continued to play. Their practice was to play three sets, changing partners with each set. After, theyd sit out on the clubs plastic chairs and drink Cokes. Theyd talk about their jobs, their families and the worlds problems. When they were older theyd talk about their aches and pains.
Paul watched the empty court for a long time and then what he was seeing became blurred. His wiped his eyes.. He turned and went back to his car. He drove back carefully, thinking that when he got back hed try to find Charlies last card and get in touch with him.
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