The Perfect Game

Eileen's boss was a tennis buff who used to demo every new racket he learned of. He never bought any. He was seeking the perfect 4 ¼ handle. He said he was looking for the perfect game. When he would send her to the tennis store to pick up the new models, he would ask, “Can the person demo-ing designate the tension of the strings?” She always felt a little foolish bringing back the rackets a couple of days later and having to tell the salesman that her boss wasn’t buying them. In the four years she worked for him, she must have repeated these little treks a hundred times and the day she left the company he was not in. He was away on a retreat, probably playing tennis with his old unreliable racket.