SB Tennis Misadventures

Thanksgiving-day tennis at Birnam Wood Country Club, in Montecito. You've probably heard about Montecito due to the devastating Tea Fire that whipped through here recently, burning 210 houses, but before that Montecito was known as the Richy Rich area of already-rich Santa Barbara. Various celebrities have called this oceanside enclave home over the years, and most recently Oprah plunked down a cool 50 million for her mansion in the hills. Suffice it to say that these estates are guarded by large gates, and Birnam Wood is no exception. Pulling up to the security gate, my window goes down and my shades go up (so the guard can get a good look at my face) and these words get me through: "Jesse, here to play tennis with Anthony!"

Inside, the air seems crisper; the sun shines just a little brighter. Even the squirrels that dart from tree to diamond-encrusted tree seem healthier and more spry than the poor souls locked outside. Lest you think I'm some kind of baller, my in is Anthony, one of the teaching pros here. Today Anthony was running a 8 man round-robin, with a twist: we were going to play with wood rackets.

I came of age when graphite rackets were already dominating the market, and wood rackets were considered yesterday's technology. But, I play with the nCode Six-One, a 90 square inch racket that is one of the most wood-like rackets currently on the market, so I figured I'd make the switch pretty easily. I picked up a Dunlop Maxply and trotted out to the baseline. Right from the start I could tell that I had underestimated the task. When I made contact the racket head felt barely bigger than the ball. The racket also flexed more than I expected; I could feel the racket bend back, which was disorienting. I couldn't even pick a ball off the ground by doing a quick bounce off the strings. I had to drag the ball over to my shoe and pick it up the n00bifier way.

I dialed in the forehand pretty quickly, but my backhand was a different story. I have pretty high confidence in my backhand, it's usually my more dependable stroke. Still, I must not hit it as cleanly as the forehand, because I kept shanking the ball. I warmed up with two other guys, Matt Devorzon and Aaron Webster. Aaron is one of the legendary Santa Barbara "Webbies"; 3 brothers (the 4th isn't as gifted) who dominated the SB tennis scene. The oldest, Dan, is the head pro at Birnam. Aaron worked at Birnam years ago, but most recently served as a hitting partner for Ashley Harkleroad, she of the Playboy fame. The youngest and probably most talented, Adam, is one of the pros over at the Santa Barbara Tennis Club. Aaron worked out the wood racket in short order and was soon belting line drives off both wings. He's this thin, wiry guy with seemingly endless energy, the type of guy you can imagine played at the club all morning as a kid, then hit the pool, and still had enough energy to play another match in the afternoon. Despite his size, he can smack the ball. I teamed up with Wooten's younger brother, Eli, against Aaron and Matt. The strategy: hit to Matt. Even so, Aaron carved us up, and we ended up with the dreaded bagel, 6-0.

Beer Thirty: must be noon somewhere in the world. Despite this being a morning hit, we took advantage of Birnam's coffer to break open a few bottles of Bohemia and Corona. Life, I thought as I settled into a chair courtside, does not suck in Santa Barbara. So this Thanksgiving, I give thanks for the privilege of living in a sunny, warm climate year-round, and the tennis opportunities it provides. Happy Thanksgiving!