Back in the days when tennis stars played for peanuts, former USTA president, Marvin Richmond, put on eight-man tournaments featuring top-ranked players. I was sitting in the stands as one of these matches was about to start when the chair umpire called my name and asked me to serve as a line umpire.
     With some apprehension I sat in the chair overlooking the right sideline. The apprehension was caused by the player warming up in front of me, Cliff Richey, an enfant terrible of that era and a role model for future bad boys of tennis such as Ilie Nastase and John McEnroe. Richey tossed me a towel and said, "hold this".
     Richey's opponent won the toss. He served first, uncorking a cannon ball aimed wide. Richey lunged to his right, obscuring the line from my view and missed the return. He whirled around and glared at me obviously wanting an "out" call. The chair umpire and everybody else in the stadium were also waiting for a call I couldn't give. I felt like crawling under Richey's towel. Happily, the line judge at the opposite end of the court called the ball out and justice prevailed.
     Richey chewed me out, telling me to get out of the chair and move to a spot where I could cover wide serves. Disgusted with the whole business, I felt an overwhelming urge to throw down Richey's towel, grind my foot on it, and stalk off the court while making an obscene gesture. Somehow I overcame the urge and served for the rest of the match as line judge, and towel holder, without further incident.
     After the era of open tennis began, Richmond collared me to serve as a net judge for Lamar Hunt's World Championship Doubles Tournament. It was a fun job. Once the ball passed the net my work was over, except for calling "not ups." And, I could watch the match from the best seat in the house.
     I was chosen to serve as net judge for the televised final and enjoyed a few fleeting seconds of fame during the match when the camera zoomed in to capture my net-judge form: fingers poised on the net ready to detect the most feathery of let balls. Soon after, my tennis pals started calling me "Fingers" Swetnam.
     To meet the needs of these tournaments, an association of tennis officials was formed and a bunch of us underwent training to become certified USTA tennis umpires. It was an opportunity to have a useful role at some great tennis events and watch world class tennis players in action from close proximity.
     Keep Hackin'


(If you have any comments, Jim Swetnam, the Netman, can be reached at editor@AmericaToday.com or directly at jswetnam1@msn.com)