I do like tennis, and I have isolated moments of enjoying golf but I just can’t seem to accept them as sports.  For some reason sports are intricately linked to dirt for me.

It is the souvenirs of softball that make it so grand.  A week after a softball tourney there is the open wound on the elbow, the gash across the knee, and the bruise on the shoulder (turning a lovely shade of purple) to remind you of your successes.   Not to mention the half acre of dirt in your uniform that provokes rolling fits from my cat who believes she is actually outside!

After clean “sports?”  Following a shower and a beverage they are the equivalent of a pleasant workout.