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LOVE 12/29/2012 8:40:03 AM
In the halcyon days of yesteryear, I played a lot of serious tennis, usually with my TV partner Tom Decker. Our matches were so intense, I always posted the true set scores on my TV weather map for all the world to see — even on the rare occasions when I lost. It apparently was something the viewing public just had to know.
Of course, neither Tom nor I had an inkling the local Mafia was using these scores to determine their numbers’ game payoffs. For example, a score of 6-2, 4-6, and 6-3 translated to 624663, rendering the four middle numbers as 2466—and that became the winning sequence of that day’s bets. An exact combination paid $150 for a 50˘ bet; ANY combination paid $15 for a 10˘ bet. Sometimes the scores were 6-0, 11-9, and 8-10. Those were times the Mafioso loved us because only four numbers counted, and they could determine which four near the middle were the payoff!
Because our TV news, weather and sports beat all competition combined (and since Off-Track Betting and the New York State Lottery could not odds-wise hold a candle to this thrice-weekly bonanza), the local good fellows were netting $500,000+ every seven days from our innocent pastime.
How the management of our station got wind of this is anyone’s guess (maybe they were Mafia themselves) but once they learned the scam, I was told that future scores were never to be posted or else I would be summarily fired. That was okay by me (maybe Tom never knew, anyway) because at that same time we were invited to play a “pro-set” at the city’s War Memorial in front of an estimated full house.
What was the big attraction? Not two local hackers (as good and talented as we were) but we would be paired with none other than Rod Laver and John Newcombe, both 2-time Wimbledon singles’ champions from 1968-1971!
Wow! Talk about an event of vast proportions!
By drawing names out of a ballbag, I was selected John Newcombe’s partner (let’s face it: we were the youngest and best-looking, anyway) and the match took place in front of 25,000 screaming fans. Our referee was the inestimable Mario Obando (now deceased) and although Newcombe and I lost 6-8, I was invited by professional Peter Cawthorne to play an additional pro-set against him at the Rochester Tennis Club — and he, Cawthorne, would use a frying pan for a racquet!
The War Memorial match was a major affair, and the four of us went out on the town afterwards. Laver and Newcombe became our fast friends, and after many Fosters we agreed to get-together at Wimbledon the following year to cheer on the Dynamic Duo to victory (for one reason or another they both, despite unparalleled credentials, never competed there again; Decker and I had other obligations, anyway. All four of us were no-shows that year.)
Anyway, the match at the local tennis club was played outdoors before about 2,000 fans, and it was hilarious. I used my standard Wilson Cobra racquet, and Cawthorne, true to his word, used a kitchen frying pan. I easily had him 6-6 when he suddenly began employing all sorts of trick shots — and I wound up losing 6-8. The house came down upon me.
It was most humiliating. But it was great fun. I probably would have “thrown” the match, anyway, as I knew I would capture the hearts of TV viewers for many years to come. Peter Cawthorne retired back to Australia in 1984.
It is now forty-odd years later, and I have not played serious tennis for a long, long time. Chances are, thanks to this damnable Primary Lateral Sclerosis, I never will again.
But that’s okay. I had my share of the limelight, and I milked it for all it was worth. I was never better than average, anyway, but that is more than 93.7% of my peers can say. Could I beat Tom Decker today? No way. At least, not in my degenerating condition, even though he is eons my senior.
Matter of fact, there was a window dresser at Sibley’s who often played on the court next to us at Comparato’s Tennis Club on Henrietta Road, and he once said to me in the locker room, “I am genuinely surprised you ever win a set, the way you play.”
I did not disagree with him. But I doubt he ever played a double’s match against Rod Laver with John Newcombe as his partner!
(Or got beat by Peter Cawthorne and a frying pan.)
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