by Leroy V. Quintana
     This was the world of white lines， a game
     unlike any other， where the object was to win，
     only you used words like "Please"
     if your aim ended up improperly
     in the next court， "Thank you" when
     the ball was returned and "Love"
     after you scored first.
     Yours was the name that survived
     the hatred only California can inspire，
     strong enough to be etched in fire
     on tennis rackets redeemed
     by thrifty mothers who built a life
     on S&H Green Stamps a dish，
     a dish， a lamp， an ashtray at a time.
     ——Leroy V. Quintana