Fallen Heroes
What I have lost and what I’ll always remember
I'm just settling in, noshing on breakfast while reading the morning Chron. From time to time when it’s least expected, my spirit, normally lively and inquisitive, begins to drift away.
They were my peers, my role models, my friends whom I willingly and happily committed chunks of my time at traditional ornate clubs, in scruffy maple courts, in stuffy locker rooms, rococo dining rooms, and lounging in lively taverns. The list of the fallen gets longer with each passing year.
You know who they are. We all have them: cultural figures, racqueteers, and sportsmen whom, beyond any single thing they’ve done, we’re just kind of glad to have them around. Their keeness seems to meld in some fundamental way with our own. And now they are gone.
The living memories, connections, and the living soul of the American game are unraveling and are slowly withering away altogether.
To me, this sense became more apparent after the passing of my college coach at Cal, Dick Crawford. And now looking back, there were august others. Jim Prigoff, Isadore Singer, Desmond Elder, Steve Kendrick, Murray Smith, John Callander, Jim Kempenich, Dwight Simpson, Ralph Hayward, Peter Gaynor, Larry Blair, Alex Eichmann, Floyd Svennson, Peter Gaynor. Sidney Unobskey, Paul Fisher, Ed Helfeld, Tom Austin, Tom Huster, Jack Barnaby Sean Connery. Darwin Kingsley, Arif Sarfraz, Rick Woolworth, Walter Pettit, Hank Bruce, and Tim Cohler were just few of the influential people who come to mind......and just today (5/6/21) I received the news that fellow club member Sam McCullagh, “the Ironman”, passed away. I just learned today that another bright note, Peter Harvey, recently left us (5/22). (Just received news that Portland’s Chuck Williams passed on Thursday (6/9/22.) His doubles partner Habib Rahman wrote - “he had a stroke 4 years ago, was mostly recovered. Just last week we played on Monday, he had a stroke Wednesday, and was gone Thursday. Such a random occurrence.”
A common bond of respectful admiration was shared with each one of them. They let me into their world as I had the fortune to share mine with theirs. What memories I have from my wanderlust squash-seeking experiences that brought me joy! They were my role models. I honor and want to pass on their legacies. (Difficult to achieve with the isolation brought on by the pandemic - JL)
It was the time of my life.
Some come to mind......
Sharing a piece of cherry pie with Dick Crawford at a diner near where he lived in SF....he of course began to turn on the charm with the waitress behind the counter, and with his characteristic wink asked for an extra dollop of whipped cream and got it! (what a role model! -JL)....... reading a quote from hardball legend Mark Talbott, "You can tell more about a man in 30 minutes in a duck blind or a squash court than seeing him in the office for two whole months”......winning the Jack Barnaby Division while playing in the Cowles, Jacobs, Barnaby Invitational at the Harvard Club in Manhattan (beating my rival Dave Linden)…...coaching Sidney Unobskey's daughter Laura - she won matches that helped lead Yale one year to win the national collegiate team title...and another junior, Katherine Sapinski - accorded this year (2021) the annually bestowed Deroy Junior National Sportsmanship Award - an award given to one young male and one young female high school player......being a Jester....
"We happy few
We band of brothers” (and sisters!)
Being a part of normal chemistry-building occasions (sharing meals, hanging out, practicing, playing tournaments).
To me, the game of squash was my passion. I miss digging deep in order to hone the craft - working diligently in hopes of becoming a good player. I loved developing the medley of strategic shots and creating my own style of game by making adjustments and trying to figure it all out while flying around on the court. It was a sport that taught me to develop a sense of self-reliance.
Soul-searching with squash is a form of meditation. Harnessing my physical, and emotional energy required all of my attention. It was a way of aligning my body with my mind - the whole being - a mindfulness. When the two parts work together harmoniously, magic happens.
Having the mettle and moxie of ever letting losing sight of the journey.
I miss the mano a mano tussle of squash;being a gladiator.
I miss the merit based access and nature of the game.
Hitting double boasts - INTENTIONALLY.....striking the PERFECT struck tight backhand rail that beautifully courses down the wall, becoming unstrikeable to win the match (the shot that I smacked to win the 1991 US National 35+ title when the score was knotted 17-17 in the 5th game).....calling a dubious let and getting away with it.😉…..hitting an irretrievable Philly.
Knowing that I was present, alert, and capable enough to track down and retrieve a well-struck double boast (in most cases, an irretrievable shot) as I instantly launched from the "T" to the front wall (as I managed to do by stretching out prone in a match at the Nationals).
Having the confidence that I was a good enough player to be able to strike an effective shot when needed to ANY corner of the court FROM any other corner of the court - a skill and awareness on the doubles court that I was fortunately gifted with. I relished being the sharpest tool in the box!
Chasing greatness and pursuing excellence. My glory years!
Responding to a well-struck forehand crosscourt that struck the side wall and then hitting a backhand half volley for a reverse corner winner. (Got that?)
From the backcourt, hitting a high skid boast that crossed the court, just skimming the ceiling and dying near the backwall for an irretrievable winner!
The members....being around them - the relationships. Being in the company of special people and whatever it was that made them special. Squash is a sport of individuals that paradoxically provides a palpable sense of community.
to be continued as it comes.......
Responding to a well-struck forehand crosscourt that struck the side wall and then hitting a backhand half volley for a reverse corner winner. (Got that?)
The bodily surge after winning an important match - as intense as an orgasm (I'm not kidding!) - the culmination of a mutual struggle.
Embracing wearing whites.
While chairing a weekend-long tournament, there was a period of years when I came to expect that each match would have a referee - GUARANTEED! There was an understanding and trust among the group of players that the loser(s) of a match was EXPECTED to ref the following match. No exceptions. It made the daunting job of directing a tourney manageable. There was no need to chase after volunteers.
The members....being around them - the relationships. Being in the company of special people and whatever it was that made them special. Squash is a sport of individuals that paradoxically provides a palpable sense of community.
A teaching pro does more than give lessons and keep track of results. Pros are stewards and curators of the game. Even with these obligations, they are still living and fully in this prescribed box we call life.
It's keeping a group of enthusiasts happy and engaged……realizing that my previous career of being a pre-school and kindergarten teacher turned out to be the perfect training ground for a career of being a squash teaching pro at the Club. I was still around a group of kids - only older and arguably somewhat wiser - a moot point.
Managing a diverse tribe of players of all ages, genders, and skill levels by looking after their interests and welfare. Making sure they're in a good place squash-wise.
Thanks to being an invited player competing in the Olympic Club's C-D Extravaganza, I remember having my very first beer (Coors) as I was watching squash matches in the gallery with my squash pals - and on my way of making new ones.
First time munching on Tastykakes - a Philly treat.
Thanks to being an invited player competing in the Olympic Club's C-D Extravaganza, I remember having my very first beer (Coors) as I was watching squash matches in the gallery with my squash pals - and on my way of making new ones.
First time munching on Tastykakes - a Philly treat.
Savoring winning matches……particularly after winning a finals match.
I have a long list of cross-country traveling escapades as well; both successful and disappointing.
The pursuit of the game became an wonderous life choice for me. I want to preserve and pass on this legacy.
Squash has been a blueprint for my life. It not only afforded me a chance to be a self-made individual standout, I became a champion; belonging to a close-knit group of fellow enthusiasts. It was way of expressing a version of myself. Was it the best version of myself? Who knows. I still have a lifetime ahead of me to find out.
To paraphrase Popeye who said it best for me. "I y’am what I y’am, but that's not all that I y’am."
In my eyes, with the demise of hardball, the American soul and spirit of the game has lost some of it’s luster. We gave up an exquisite version of the game which befitted the American zeitgeist. I was very fortunate to have found this great American game and ride it’s magnificent wave.
Related Links:
Hardball - a sport that suits well-seasoned players
The NorCal Squash Racquets Association during the hardball era
to be continued as it comes.......
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