Marlboro Man
Don’t ask me the year for it was a long time ago, but there was a time when Andrew Eckert was a young thin string bean of a lad, with a Beatles haircut than none could rival.
Andrew and I thought that we would try out for the up and coming Men’s Marlboro Open Tennis tournament at Memorial Drive, not as players but as ball boys.
Through a couple of gruelling training sessions (and probably due to very little credible competition, Andrew and I somehow made the cut).
During the tennis games, being tallish lads and relatively slow and dorky, Andrew and I enjoyed the relatively simple task of standing at each corner end of the tennis court while the shorter quicker lads ran back and forth endlessly collecting balls from faults, or shots that hit the net. We enjoyed being relatively close to the players, having a birds eye view of the matches and passing the balls to the players when they had to serve.
We soon realised we had the prime positions and enjoyed watching top men’s tennis for free and actually getting paid for it (if memory serves correct it was around $24.00 for the week).
As the novelty slowly wore off, Andrew and I soon realised that by simply entering the ball boys locker room area, and pretending to wipe our brows from sweat and stating we had just ball-boyed a recent match, we could easily con the clean cut young ball boy captain to send out other lads for the next game (often after they had just come in from ball boying a match themselves). We also got a free can of coke after each match (or in our case after each “imaginary match”).
It wasn’t long before Andrew and I were soon running the show like two young mafia bosses, telling other young lads which matches they should be ball boying while Andrew and I would pick the primary games that the best players were playing in.
After a few days, we started bringing our own tennis rackets and practicing on the lawn courts between our matches.
I remember a professional American player Hank Fister asking if Andrew and I would mind letting him practise as he was playing in the tournament, Andrew and I kindly obliged (which I thought was very generous of us at the time).
As the finals approached, there were less matches and less ball boys required. Suffice to say, Andrew made it the finals while I was politely told “my services were no longer required”.
Just one of the many great memories I have of my dear friend Andrew, who I was blessed to know, and have in my life.
Always loved and never to be forgotten, you will live in our memories forever mate, thanks for being a big part of my life.
By Steve Cram.
