I was bragging to a friend about my son's tennis — Stefan (class of '95) was the No. 1 Texas junior, a college all-American, two trips with TCU to the NCAA Championships, beat Sampras and Agassi in the pros.
That last part I made up.
My friend said, "I think most of athleticism is in the genes. I imagine you must have been pretty good yourself."
Well, shucks, I do have something of a tennis record. I have never before made it public. Judge for yourself.
My career started in earnest when my Denver City High School principal got me out of study hall to play. That beat both studying and hitting a ball against the gym wall. My competitive highlight was a loss to the eventual state champion in the finals of our district tournament. Or maybe it was the semis. Come to think of it, maybe he lost at State. It was a long time ago.
My skills were such that I became the practice partner of a girl player whom I trained to such a keen edge that she won District and went on to State. I, however, did not accompany her as planned. She cut classes the last day of school and was punished by making me stay home. I'm still trying to figure that out.
At TCU, my equally accomplished doubles partner and I combined to post a defeated freshman season (as opposed to undefeated). Not only were freshmen not eligible to play on the varsity team, they actually wore beanies, though not usually during a match. Beanies, for you younger folks, are skullcaps. Skullcaps? Forget it.
At a summer tournament during college I snagged one game off the Southwest Conference champion after he double-faulted twice, missed a volley that would have decapitated me had I not fallen, and I mis-hit a winner. I also lost the Seminole Open that year. I choked. I admit it.
But I had my days. One was when I won the TCU intramural championship on the sand — the Athletic Department called it "clay" — over a field of four or five other students who also owned racquets. Another was when I did it again the next year, while my parents watched in our loaded car, waiting to drive me back to Denver City. Other than my opponent they were the only witnesses. I still have the two tiny medals, each about the size of a quarter.
I have saved the best for last. I am TCU's only undefeated varsity player. It's true. I played one match and won it. I remember it like it was today. We were scheduled to play St. Mary's of San Antonio at River Crest Country Club. Don't ask me why. Maybe it was because River Crest had real clay courts.
I wasn't actually on the team, but I went over to watch. As match time approached, Coach Burch was frantic. "Where's Terry?! Where's Terry?!!" Terry was the No. 6 player and my erstwhile defeated freshman doubles partner, and he was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Terry?" pleaded Coach. So I stepped forward and said: "Coach, put me in." Or words to that effect. So he did. And I won. In three sets, fighting back from an 0-6 first set. Or maybe I won it 6-0 and lost the second 0-6. Something like that, but whatever, I won against a tough St. Mary's guy. I'm certain it was a guy, although St. Mary's was all-girl at one point. It was before then.
Maybe my friend is right about talent being in the genes. But my son is adopted.
Preston Figley served as a U.S. Army lieutenant in Germany, held public relations jobs in Washington, D.C., Cleveland and Dallas, and came full circle back to Fort Worth to join Witherspoon & Associates, retiring as Executive Vice President after 24 years with the advertising and public relations firm. He and his wife, Petra, devote much of their time to their 35-year business, Old Maps and Prints (http://www.americamaps.com).
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