Free 1 Sunshine Hunter by Maddie Cochere Page B

generous tip.
    As are most racquetball clubs, this was a large building. I walked into the lobby and was impressed by its size. Our lobby at home was small by comparison. One corner of the room had sports cloth ing and merchandise for sale. A juice bar was to the left of the main desk. Overstuffed sofas and chairs were spread throughout the large open area. Four courts, two on each side of the lobby, had glass back walls. Two of the glass courts had matches in progress, and I could hear the echo of voices and balls being hit on the back courts. There were four women chatting together on sofas, and a few more people were standing around watching the matches in progress. One guy in a club shirt and khaki slacks was working behind the desk. I walked up to speak with him.
    “Hi, I’m Susan Hunter,” I told him. “I called about getting some court time this afternoon. I was told you could arrange a couple of matches for me?” It was more of a question as I was looking for confirmation.
    “Hi, Susan. I’m Dale,” he said as he looked over his appointment book. “Yep, you’re scheduled for court number three in 20 minutes. There’s no one on there now,” he said as he handed a towel and a locker key to me, “so, if you want to get changed and take some time to warm up, that would be ok. The ladies locker room is down the hallway to the right, the doorway will then be on your left.”
    “Ok, great. Thanks, ” I told him with a smile. I started to walk toward the hallway, but turned back to Dale and said, “Oh, I also need to rent a graphite racquet, and I’d like to buy a new can of Ektelon balls.”
    “Sure,” he acknowledged. “I’ll get those ready.”
    I changed into a pair of dark brown cotton shorts with a matching top. The top was a tan color with brown cap sleeves. My ankle socks were white with brown and pink polka-dots. My white court shoes had my trademark pink laces. I stopped at the desk to pick up the racquet and balls. Dale gave me a quick once-over with an appreciative look as he handed the equipment to me and said, “Your first match is with Ron. He’s in the locker room changing, and he’ll be out in a few minutes.”
    I opened the door and stepped onto the court. I couldn’t help myself, I smiled a big smile. A little over a year ago, before I ever hit my first ball, before I had ever swung my first racquet, I fell in love with just stepping onto the court. There was something almost overwhelming about the experience. The walled space with such high ceilings, the echo of everything – a ball bounce, a sneaker squeak, a voice. The sounds were much more intense when the action was underway. The cool air-conditioned court would soon feel overheated.
    The feeling never went away and it was there today. It was even more exciting to be playing in a new venue with a mystery opponent. I bounced the ball a few times. A new ball would make the match more interesting as it had its most zip right out of the can. I bounced the ball again and hit it into the front wall. It came back toward me, bounced once, and I hit it again into the front wall. I continued to hit simple easy shots into the front wall, returning as many of them as I could. I sent up a few high ceiling shots to warm up my upper body, and then moved into the service box to hit several serves along both sides of the court. I was feeling warm and just about ready. I tossed the ball into the back wall and set up for a low forehand shot into the right-front corner. I did the same thing facing the left side and set up for a backhand into the left-front corner. The shot was perfect and rolled out for an ace. I smiled.
    Ron opened the door and stepped in. I almost gasped. Whoever set my match up set me up with a Neanderthal. This guy was probably 6’3” and nearly 300 pounds. And the hair! It was sticking out from everywhere – literally.
    I walked over to shake his hand, “Hi, Ron. I’m Susan. Thank you for agreeing to play. Do you want to