The year....1987

I had decided to enter the Knoxville Racquets and Jackets amateur tennis tournament in men’s singles.  Of course, that was nearly 25 years and 50 pounds ago.  The previous year I had taken up the sport in an effort to wean myself off my expensive golf habit.  I was in graduate school at the University of Tennessee and the tennis hours fit my studying schedule.  Three or four of my friends were advanced tennis players and encouraged me to enter the event.

The day before the event, the tennis pairings were announced and I noticed that out of all the players in this event (more than 100), I was seeded D.A.L.  Better known as dead ass last.  Which also means that my opponent would be the number one seeded player in the whole tournament.  That player was Carlos Garcia who at the time was a member of the SEC conference champion University of Tennessee tennis team.

You ever get this feeling that you’re getting ready to take a test that you haven’t studied for yet?  (My  mindset was --Test what test????  Somehow I missed the class altogether.) My friends offered their advice and encouragement.  “Remember the 1980 U.S. hockey team”, they suggested.  “Or the New York Jets and Joe Namath against the Baltimore Colts!” (Actually, my biggest fear was being hit in the nether region by Garcia’s 120 miles per hour serve). 

The day of the match.  I’m wearing blue shorts and a red shirt. Saggy socks like Pete Maravich and brand new Adidas (of which my Dad pronounces “added dass”).  Carlos shows up with an entourage of 50.  Dressed in white from head to toe and a very confident air, he was carrying a tennis bag with a dozen rackets. 

My racket was a K-Mart $12 special.

Carlos starts warming up and jogging in place and flexing.  I decide to do the same.  Jumping jacks. Knee bends. Carlos opens a new can of balls and hits one toward me.  Not sure if he wanted to hit a few before actually playing, I let the ball go past.  I jogged to retrieve the ball and threw it back at him.  It never occurred to me to actually hit it back. 

The match begins.  And Carlos serves first.  I’m on the back baseline on the balls of my feet rocking side to side ready to conquer the champ. Ohhhhh yeahhhhh--- I'm beyond ready!  Carlos tosses the ball ten feet in the air, coils his body and launches into the serve.  All I heard was a “pop” and a “thump”.

I never saw the ball.  What the-----????

The pop was the racquet making contact with the ball.  The thump was the ball bouncing off the padded wall behind me.  He scored an ace. Second serve.  He scored another ace.  Then the third, same result.  The fourth serve? Straight as a stripe on a skunk.  Another ace.  Game. The only exercise I got was walking back and forth between points.

My turn to serve.  Now I had no illusion I would score any aces as my goal was not to embarrass myself.  Unlike me, Carlos does not stand behind the baseline to return my serve.  He moves up 10 feet knowing darn well my serve is “grandma” quality.  The familiar sound again.  Pop. Thump.  During the next 15 minutes, I never win a point.  Carlos scored 24 aces.  Not once did I make contact from a ball he hit toward me.  And thankfully, all my body parts were preserved.

I tell this story because quite frankly Carlos taught me something about commitment and working on your craft.  I love to cook barbeque.  And I love to share the Q with wonderful friends and neighbors such as all of you.  This weekend is our first barbeque take-out of 2010.  Our menu is simple.  We’ve tweaked the recipes just a bit.  But it will be the same wood-fired goodness that only true barbeque represents. 

All orders must be in by Thursday February 18 at 5:00 PM.  If you have any questions, please call us at 235-5176 (Q-Line) or 947-8705 (home).  Pickup time is Saturday from 11 am – 1 pm. Thanks to all...and if you see Carlos…tell him I want a rematch…