A Case of Mistaken Identity

     My son has decided to get back to playing tennis this summer. He played in high school, and for a while in college, but then cut way back on tennis to focus on finishing his degree, getting a job, and starting his career.

     I had dinner with him last night, and he told me he'd bought a season pass for his local public tennis courts. He has one friend he can play with, but my son works late hours, and his friend works early hours, so they can only meet on weekends. He was looking for more partners, so he turned to Craig's List. He found a couple of players, and arranged to meet one of them at a nearby tennis court. They were scheduled to play yesterday at 9 a.m.

     So yesterday, at 8:15 a.m., he gets a text from his new friend:  Confirming 9 a.m. Got any tennis balls?

     My son looked around his apartment, in his closet, through his tennis bag. No balls. So he texts back: Nope. Do you?

     The other fellow said no, so my son volunteered to buy some tennis balls on his way over to the park. The problem: the only sports store anywhere near his apartment doesn't open until 9 a.m.

     He stopped at a drug store, thinking they might carry tennis balls. He didn't see any, so he asked the clerk. Apparently they do carry tennis balls, but it's a seasonal item. They only have them from May through September.

     He tried a local supermarket. No luck. He tried a convenience store. No way.

     Then he saw a dollar store. Well, maybe . . . he thought.

     He went in the dollar store. Walked up and down a couple of aisles. And then, on the end of one shelf, he saw them -- a package of bright yellow tennis balls!

     Only, the package had two balls. That's funny, he thought. They usually come in a can of three. He went over and hefted the package. Sure . . . they were tennis balls. He picked one out, just to test it. He dropped it on the floor. But instead of bouncing, it went thud.

     What?!?

     He eyed the package again. They were not tennis balls. They were the balls that look like tennis balls . . . the ones that older people snap onto the bottom of their walkers!

       P.S. He finally got tennis balls at the sports store, and arrived at the court 20 minutes late. His new partner had waited for him, and they got to play. And my son is planning a match over the weekend with his usual partner.