Two stories about tennis today, "Love Love," and "Tennis Lessons." I believe Pickle Ball may be taking over the tennis world. I've never played Pickle Ball, and I'm not sure I ever will, but then I haven't played tennis in more than a decade and it's likely I'll never play again. I still have my old Head tennis racket. I bought it because I was a big fan of Arthur Ashe. He also promoted the newly created Ford Tempo, and I bought one of those, too. Both were mistakes. Later I switched to a Prince racket, and that helped my game, not that I was at all exceptional at tennis. I was good enough to win a couple of times in the annual corporate mixed doubles tournament, but that owed mostly to being paired with the best woman player. One year our prize was a pair of goldfish. Hers died the second day. Mine lasted a week longer. As a kid I was fascinated by my parents' tennis rackets. They were wooden rackets, but what interested me was not the racket but the racket press, a pair of frames designed to keep the racket from warping. And what interested me about the racket press was not the press so much as the wing nuts used to secure the frames. My small fingers could actually work those wing nuts, tightening and loosening them again and again. Maybe I need to write a story about wing nuts.