I’m in Ojai with Henry with some of his Pali High tennis team members and coach. We’re staying at the Hummingbird Inn room #1.  My newly washed car is parked 12 feet from where I’m writing this. Henry lost in the 1st round yesterday. As he was walking on the court before the match he turned around and told me sheepishly, “Dad, I kinda don’t want you watching my match today.” I said no problem, drove away and treated my Volvo to the best car wash this side of the Mississippi.

I drive back to Henry’s match. In the parking lot his coach and 2 team members are watching Henry play. I know he split sets 0-6, 6-3, I got a text at the car wash. He’s hitting the ball well and moving around the court with the air of a winner. His opponent is talking to himself and whacking the ball into the backstop after a blown shot. I ask one of his team mates what the score is and he says, “I don’t know, we just got here.” His coach yells to Henry while holding up his hands and wagging his fingers in sort of a universal “What’s the score?” sign language. Henry holds up 2 fingers then 5 fingers. He’s losing and his opponent is now serving for the match. Game over, they shake hands and Henry comes over to us. He’s not upset. He says he played a really good match. His coach tells him that this is the best he’s ever seen him play,  you seem to be getting used to your new strings and considering the kids higher ranking…

Coach says it’s time for the best burritos in California. Henry tries to sit in the back seat of my car, something he always does when he doesn’t want to talk. I tell him to get up front; you’re bigger then me. He sits next to me and asks, “Hey dad, did you get your car washed?”

Later that night, Henry is in bed. He has ESPN turned down low on the t.v, just how I like it. We hear a chirping sound coming from the bathroom. He asks me what that sound is. I tell him it’s a cricket. “How do they make that sound?” he asks. “With their legs I think.” I’m basing my answer from ‘A Cricket in Times Square and Pinocchio. We say goodnight and go to sleep to it’s song. In the morning, it’s leaf blower day here at the Hummingbird,  next to the desk on the floor in our room I look down and see a cricket with one leg. His other leg is next to him but he’s still alive. I think of the cricket from last night and how can I help him now. How did he lose his leg? I take his picture and gently pick him up and put him in a safe place behind my surfboard propped in the corner.