Paging Lowell and Handball

Lowell,


I am struggling on my WW2, so I digress.
However, you posted a reply on my “66” thread, that had me gurgling on my Reminisces of sorts.
Sunday, Belle Isle. Peggy and our young uns on the beach, and me, a few feet away, melding into the crowd of young and old players, waiting for their turns to play In the wooden three wall ‘spectator’ court. A full days journey, always to remember.
If you win your first game, you get to play a second game against a different player.
John Scopis was the “best” in Michigan for about ten years or more. He was an excellent, and fair player to play against. He never challenged a block or a point. A good sportsman.
On a particular day I happened to be the “second” player to play John.
John would never embarrass a lesser player like me. He would take his time.
The Score was 17 - 6. I was leadingJohn decided to go to work. A crowd began to stop talking and came over to watch my decimation.
John began to explode. The score went to 19 - 16. My serve. In the volley, I had to ’fist’ one and it rolled out flat. 20 - 16. Still my serve. I needed another fluke. I got it.
I gave my serve a hard “slice,” right along the left side wall. He could not get his whole hand on his return. He managed to return it but I killed it.


So, Lowell, don’t retire. Just take a leave of absence and keep whatever dreams you might have, following you back.


I might tell you my story about the New York Obert Brothers. Oscar, Carl and Ruby.
Ohhhhh, what a Dream to play against them.

Scopis was before my handball days, but I heard about him many times from older players. He was a legend and always spoken of with high regard. I was told he was Greek and a dentist. Someone said his Detroit handball days ended when he moved to Greece to be out of jurisdiction for an onerous divorce settlement.

To steal a win off him had to be a triumph. Like you describe, when I have won an upset against a far stronger player, it was the same. The other player relaxes because you are pushover, you get hot, some lucky breaks and a big lead while he is snoozing. Then he gets serious, comes back but is just a point or two short when you get a couple last breaks and win.

But this was the more usual story... Another local legend was Ray Kunkel, maybe even from your day, a little guy who never hit the ball hard but had a bag of tricks like nobody else. He won a scads of local, state and national titles. One day on Belle Isle [new courts] I was breezing along up 18-3 on him when he open his bag [and a can of whoop-ass]. He scored the next 31 points and I was suddenly down one game and behind 10-0 in the second.

One of his tricks was to set up for a kill shot with his shooting arm cocked. If he saw you setting up for it he would cut the ball off, backhanding it out front with his other hand and soft killing it in the opposite corner while his opponents stood there frozen in disbelief.