Garlic Power : Camarillo: Health guru Gypsy Boots shares his good nature as well as his medical philosophy at tennis matches against Establishment ‘businessmen and cops.’

Before the sun rises Saturday mornings, an aged, long-haired health food zealot can be seen in Camarillo berating the city’s top cop to take his droplets of liquid garlic like a man.

Cmdr. Ray Abbott obliges, leaning back his head good-naturedly, as he swallows Gypsy Boots’ sour medicine.

The 82-year-old then reaches into his bag and rolls a handful of blood oranges across a tennis court to a school administrator, a high school principal and a real estate broker--all of whom express their thanks by mimicking the sound of barking seals.

For two years now, the self-promoting iconoclast who calls himself Gypsy Boots has joined these and other members of the Establishment at Mission Oaks Park in Camarillo for a brisk game of tennis. Returning serves, he’s screaming “I got it” at his doubles partner before most people are out of bed.

“In the ‘60s, I played with men in bare feet and now I play with businessmen and cops,” Boots observes.

Boots’ new tennis partners lack the glamour of the granola guru’s former crowd of choice. In the early 1960s, Boots was a regular on the “Steve Allen Show,” appearing as a kooky vegetarian “Nature Boy.” He claims to have influenced the likes of Stevie Wonder, Danny Kaye and Nat (King) Cole by pushing his own line of health products and bohemian attitudes about life.

He’s best known for his days as a publicity hound in Los Angeles, where he sought the attention of TV cameras and crowds at sporting events by leading cheers and dressing in flower-child clothing. Boots moved to Camarillo in 1989 and sells figs, prunes and herbs out of a van emblazoned with a 5-foot-tall self-portrait.

Despite the company he now keeps, Boots hasn’t lost his radical look. With mismatched sneakers, beaded headband and necklace, he is a walking relic from the past, a symbol of the counterculture. His rag-tag appearance clashes on the court with his buddies in matching tennis outfits.

“Gypsy has sold out,” teases Jim Silberberger, a Conejo Valley School District administrator and a regular tennis partner for Boots.

As many as a dozen people show up on the Mission Oaks courts Saturday mornings, including an attorney, a preacher, an insurance salesman and several other lawmen. No one keeps score and partners rotate to the sidelines every three games.

Phil Parish, principal of Manzanita Elementary School in Newbury Park, said that “other players take tennis much more seriously than we do. Winning and losing is not an end to this game.”

But Boots’ intensity belies his laid-back look. This Saturday morning, he is having a hard time returning the commander’s spin. A volley ends when Boots takes a wild swing at a ball that stops dead on the court.

“Cheap,” he mutters as he stomps away. “I played tennis with Steve Allen,” Boots shouts. “I hit him right in the face.”

Cmdr. Abbott feigns a reaction to such bravado. “Now I know what it’s like to play with Jimmy Connors,” Abbott yells back.

Boots said he wakes up Mission Oaks neighbors with his gravelly voice, permanently hoarse after years of cheering in the stands for the Dodgers, Lakers and Raiders. Some of the boldest residents have left notes on his van, beseeching him to keep his voice down before 8 a.m.

Is he breaking any laws about preserving the peace? Perhaps, one partner said. “That’s why we have the chief here,” Silberberger offers.

A core group has arrived before sunrise just about every Saturday for the past four years. They’ve kept the standing tennis date through bad weather, hamstring injuries, new marriages, the birth of grandchildren and even winning the lottery, said Phil Daily, the organizer, who owns Newbury Park Realty.

One weekend, a player turned out wearing black socks and announced to the group that he had started divorce proceedings.

Even losing weight has become a group endeavor. Silberberger said Boots inspired him to shed 40 pounds. “I went on a vegetarian diet and brought my cholesterol down to acceptable limitations,” Silberberger said. “He’ll bring in garlic tablets, product samples and dates. We chow them down. Then we get his lecture. I haven’t become celibate yet, that’s going too far to me.”

On the court, Boots misses a shot as Daily works the sidelines. Although the other players tell him he does well for his age, Boots ignores the praise of his juniors.

“Gypsy is real competitive. He’s spent his life promoting Gypsy,” Daily said. “He doesn’t like losing. We get a kick out of him.”

As the game winds down, players begin to head off in different directions, one for a day of yard work, another for a child’s sporting event, a third looking forward to an afternoon nap.

Boots bounds into his van, announcing to everyone within earshot that he’s heading off to the Santa Monica Mountains to jump naked into a cold creek.