One Man’s Parable on the Dream Team

When I was in high school, another boy and I got permission to make a tennis court on an unused lot in our small town. We skinned off the dying sod, tamped down the clay soil, dug drainage, mowed weeds, bought posts and a net, and had a fine thing going. We even had our picture in the local newspaper.

Then the college kids came home for the summer and a new rule was made: winners kept the court. We never won, and we soon lost heart. By September, the weeds were back, the drains were clogged, the net sagged and the college guys had the nerve to complain about poor maintenance.

I’m not too likely to get excited about the Dream Team.

FRED SCIFERS

Downey