Yesterday, for no particular reason other than it seemed interesting I fired up Netflix and watched the movie The Long Game. It seemed to be a mash up of Hoosiers and Stand and Deliver. It was very enjoyable and had moments of laughter, and some of tears. After enjoying the movie for a couple of hours I did a small dive into it and found that it was based on a true story (I think I missed that at the beginning) but did see the reference over the closing credits and statements here’s what I found: the movie is based on the true story of the San Felipe High School golf team, the Mustangs, a Mexican American golf team that overcame segregation and discrimination to win the Texas state high school golf championship in 1957. The movie is an adaptation of Humberto G. Garcia’s 2012 book, “Mustang Miracle.”

After the movie I started to think back about how far we had not come by 1977. Why, you ask, do I pick 1977? Well…in 1977 I was teaching at Blessed Sacrament High School, a small all boys high school in New Rochelle, NY and Pat DeRosa, the tennis coach, took a job at a public school and I was asked to take over as tennis coach for that year. I was happy to do it since it meant some extra money (very little but anything extra was good) and the team he was leaving me was a very solid team with some really great kids. We sat down and he explained to me that in addition to being the coach I was also the team van driver both to practices and to matches. Again, let me stress, small catholic school…minimal budget…so minimal, in fact, that at the beginning of each school year Bro. Thomas Patrick O’Dwyer, the assistant principal and also financial person, would give us each ONE 500 sheet ream of paper and remind us that ream was the ONLY one we would get all year and to use it wisely. This was also back in the days of the “wet” ditto machine so even trying to use both sides of the paper was virtually impossible. For reference I taught 5 mathematics classes across four grade levels and each class averaged 35 young men per class…500 sheets of paper….tests/quizzes/handouts…500 sheets of paper for the year…think about that the next time you complain that your copy machine is broken…

Anyway, I am again on a tangent so let’s get back to the real point of this post…Pat also explained to me that our home matches were to be played at the Beach and Tennis Club on Davenport Road in New Rochelle, a short drive from the school, and that’s also where we would practice and I should call a particular person to arrange our practice times and give him our home match schedule, the team had practiced and played there for years they were used to “us” and it shouldn’t be any problem.

I did that, it was very easy and the gentleman was very nice, we arranged for our first practice and I thanked him and hung up. Now, we played schools who were much larger than us, Mamaroneck HS was perhaps the largest, they had a huge club population to choose from, lighted courts I remember at least 10 separate courts, and when we played them we played matches that were 3-4, that is to say three singles and 4 doubles. When we placed in against other smaller division schools we played matches that were 3-2. I had three very strong singles players Steve Becker, Barry Dixon and his brother Greg, and a very good #1 doubles team. The rest of the team had a great deal of heart, were decent players but up against many kids who had grown up with private lessons in local clubs it was a demanding task (I’ll cut to the end of the season: we went 3 and 1 in our 3-2 matches but 0-7 in our 3-4 matches not that we didn’t win some of the individual games but to win a 3-4 match you had to, as a team, win 4 of the 7 matches, and if any one of the 3 singles players lost which they occasionally did, we were in trouble). That did not stop the incredibly hard working team from BS from entering every single match with a positive focus.

The first day of practice, we arrived at the Beach and Tennis Club and I went to check in with the gentleman I had previously contacted to ask which of their multiple courts we could use and for how long we could use them (there was no one playing when we arrived and very few folks around the club). He kindly pointed me to six courts and told me to take my pick of any or all of them, Give that we only had 11 players just enough for 3 singles and 4 doubles, we really didn’t need all 6 courts at any one time so I thanked him again and off we went to hit away.

About a half hour into our first practice, he came down to the courts and pulled me aside. He said he was incredibly embarrassed but he made a huge mistake when we spoke and it seemed that every afternoon between 2:30 and 6 pm the members needed all the courts for their own use and clinics that were going to be held. I asked if that included that very afternoon (remember, not a person in tennis whites was even around and there were many other courts) and he said “yes, something was going to start very soon which is why he came down to tell me as soon as he was told”.

Well, it didn’t take a rocket science degree, only a call to Pat DeRosa, to figure out that in the past Blessed Sacrament’s tennis team had been lily white, but this year the two brothers in my singles rota were not so upon showing up to practice and have some of the members who were simply sitting around sipping, notice our team, we were told it was no longer available for us to use. That is why what little hair I have stood up on the back of my neck as the movie was unfolding.

For the rest of the season, every match we played was an “away” match…all the competitor schools were more than happy to oblige moving the matches to their locales. We practiced AFTER each match since it was the only time we could get a facility (each AD was very gracious giving us the space and time). So after a full day of classes, playing very competitive matches, frequently losing the overall match a 3-4, these fabulous young men practiced for another two hours, all because a few entitled jackwagons did not like what they saw on their courts.

So from 1957 in the deep south to 1977 in New Rochelle, NY did we really. make any progress? Further, have we really made any progress now or are we simply backsliding out of any gains we, as a society, have made? I guess hope springs eternal but it also remains to be seen…

PS: a word of thanks to John Breunig, another former player, now a good friend, who filled in the names for this old and in the way senior….