You were (as a German friend of mine would say) a “sporty” guy. I was thinking about you as a chubby child. I never thought you were all that heavy but as you grew into teenage you were unhappy with your weight. You decided to take up tennis and to go on a diet. The weight fell off at the same time you fell in love with tennis. You had tennis lessons up on Prospect and played for years after that.
Once when I was in college I saw you on a summer day. You had stitches above your eyebrow. I asked about it of course. You said you did it playing tennis. I think you were playing with Fred. I said that I didn’t know that tennis was a contact sport. You made some comment about never having played tennis with you. Of course you told me that you couldn’t because I wasn’t a good player and it would make your game crap. ::punches you in the arm:: Brat.
You had been winning. At one point you decided to put a backspin on the ball and whacked yourself in the face with the racket. Fred told you that you were fine. As you kept playing you started to lose. You raised your hand to wipe the sweat from your eye and your hand was red.
You: Fred, I’m bleeding!
Fred: just a little.
You: Why didn’t you tell me?
Fred: You’ll be fine.
You: Fred, I’m bleeding a lot!
Fred: You’re fine. Just keep playing.
You finally talked Fred into taking you to get stitches. As I recall it took 4 or 5 stitches.
I giggle every time I think of you telling me that story.
I love you and miss you Danny.