Riding by the JPTC I spotted twenty plus fraternity students playing whiffle ball on the courts. They’d actually taped off a baseball field on the courts. Brogans to running shoes, beer keg & all. There they were.
Whoa, Whoa, Whoa.
I tried to be nice. One kid ran his argument right at me, as I stood in the door-frame. He ran into the door fence. Really. I couldn’t help but laugh at him.
His buddy took over, quite indignantly telling me how students owned this facility. He wanted to know who I was. I  told him I was directly in charge of the facility and it was limited to tennis only. We fought skateboarders, even hockey players, but this was different.
After about three attempts to explain, he ignored me again. I, then, asked
who, in fact, he was?
He wouldn’t answer or show an I.D. card, required to play on the courts. “That’s okay,” I said, inching closer to his nose, “I already know who you are.”
“You know who I am?” he asked.
“Yeah, you’re a chicken shit coward, and you always will be.” He walked away.
I wasn’t aware he was the sports editor for the “Pendulum,” Elon’s student
newspaper. The next edition featured his article “Tennis Coach has balls.”
Back to Alan’s office!

P.S.  I was concerned that Elon would discipline me for my behavior and waited for  the call from the A.D. or President, etc.  Nope–the only response was by the football coaching staff.  One by one they lined up outside my office and each one brought me their copy of the PENDULUM article and meekly asked me to autograph it,  so they could “…show it to my Dad!”

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