Word: kids
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...Superman," whispers the little kid sitting next to you as popcorn butter drips from his chin to his dungarees. But on the screen, the Man of Steel is neither stopping a runaway train, nor punching out bank robbers. He's in bed with a gorgeous woman, worrying about things that have nothing to do with truth, justice, or the American way. Superman II is more than just another adventure for our favorite hero. In addition to saving the planet, and perhaps the universe, he confronts his own past, throws a dinner party for two at his North Pole bungalow...
...have another story to pull from my pre-Bar Mitzvah days of glory and shiny new Jack Kramers, a story about another kid who was a monster as a junior and whom I saw play--and win--many times after I had lost yet another grueling three-setter in the third round at the Port Washington Tennis Academy. I don't know what has become of Jimmy Arias since I heralded him last year, but I can safely predict John McEnroe will be a prominent name in tennis circles for some time...
...make matters worse, the chunky kid on the next court was swearing at the top of his lungs and stopping after every few points to crack his racquet against the hard artificial surface. "Goddammitfuckit...crack!" From what I could gather--and I obviously should have been paying more attention to my own match and less to the one next door--the chunky kid was killing his opponent. But he kept on screaming. Maybe his dad was watching...
What happened next was unusual, even at Port Washington. As I was in the midst of returning a backhand with pitiful timidity, the chunky kid coiled his body into a ball and then released, throwing himself into the air with a fierce, raging scream and launching his Wilson Prostaff toward the high ceiling. The raquet returned to earth on my side of the green court divider, bouncing at the service line and coming to rest near to where I had been awaiting a deep forehand. I called a let, as seemed only appropriate when under attack by unidentified flying Prostaffs...
McEnroe himself dismisses these specious contentions that Jimmy Connors once used to justify his torturing of officials and using his T-2000 as a symbolic phallus to impress unfriendly fans. After making a fool of himself during a rather unexciting first-round win at Wimbledon this week, the kid from New York admitted he had erred. But as usual, he had to add an excuse, telling reporters, "I have this feeling that, God, I won the point, but they (the officials) are taking it away. When I'm an incompetent fool playing, I lose. But when they are--they just...