Wimbledud

A year and a half ago, you couldn't keep my brother and I off of the tennis courts at school. Sure we were busy, but we seized the opportunity to display our dominance over the fuzzy, green orb whenever time would allow.

Saturday, my wife, her mom and I decided to digest our Greek food on the city courts here in Alexandria. They looked nice; the three of us, however, did not.

Just imagine what spiced-up gyro meat and tzatziki does to a person internally compunded the physical exertion of an out of shape desk worker. Those tennis balls might as well have been bullets as slow as I swinging at them.