ACORNS AND OAK TREES – Today’s trip: Ojai, California

Written by: Staff on 28th April 2013

ACORNS AND OAK TREES - Today’s trip: Ojai, California |

Oceanic swells thriving and crashing to the West, as the renowned Pacific Coast Highway snakes its way Northward. I pass outlet stores and two In ‘n’ Out Burgers and then wipe what are now both of my chins to clear the saliva. At the 33E, I head into another dimension. Time disappears here, as though Ojai’s oak trees shield the old hippie town from the polluted chronology of civilization. Pronounced properly, Ojai is “Oh, hi,” making the current versions traveling around town sound mildly retarded.

As I enter the city of 7,000 inhabitants – most sport some sort of crystal around their necks and smoke things with Indian names – Mom and Pop stores greet me. There are breakfast cafes, general stores, arts and crafts shops, and the widespread ease of those who’ve found peace in a self-sustaining city. Toward the center of town, old street lanterns dangle a banner declaring “The Ojai Tennis Tournament.”

The crunch of acorns accompanies me on my way toward Libby Park, center stage for today’s entertainment. At the site, hundreds of name-tagged volunteers scamper about in white t-shirts and scuffed shoes, answering questions like “Where’s Court 7?” and “Is that really a soda fountain shop?” The tournament is Ojai’s largest annual event. Thus, the friendly smiles come from both a desire to please and an understanding that the income generated this week will last well beyond the summer heat. This is the 113^th edition of what is commonly referred to as “The Ojai”, – a moniker cited frequently by Rufus Sterling as he sits in his fedora-topped three-piece suit checking his pocket watch with the sort of unabashed anticipation that makes you sad to know he is waiting for a train that passed by about forty years prior – Rufus is 97 years old and has a face like a clenched fist.

In my youth, I played this tournament, standing next to guys like Sampras and Chang as we battled for the title (me going out in the VERY early rounds and them having to create trunk space for trophies). Today’s adult admission is $18, although if one flirts well, there’s some wiggle room. I pass over my twenty and reclaim two dollars. A smiling woman presses a red stamp onto my hand and tells me “Y’all have a great time today.” Y’all?

The path to the courts smacks with sentiment. Upon magnificently decorated kiosks – think green wooden boards nailed together in 1950 and brought out for their annual viewing – photos of the tournaments past champions create a tableau of heroes. McEnroe is here, as are Ashe, Tarango, Chang. Players and fans stroll the walkway, clicking photos and pointing sun-drenched fingers in front of gaping mouths. The most common expression sounds like “Holy…Whoa!” I scan my graduation year of 1988 and find UCLA women’s coach Stella Sampras holding the winner’s cup.

In the distance, roars erupt from a circus of activity. Green-painted wooden bleachers surround four courts, all decked out with local sponsor signage, college banners, television cameras, ball kids, umpires, and the salty evidence of some seriously hard-fought battles. At present, UCLA’s Kyle McPhillips is deep in the third with Stanford’s Kristie Ahn. Stella sits courtside, offering advice. The crowd is here to watch the PAC-12 men and women – later this afternoon USC plays UCLA in what may portend this year’s NCAA championship. Too though, they’ll see the top junior players, men and women’s open finalists, and the junior college championship. For the past several days, thirty satellite sites have held competitions to whittle down the non-challengers into trophy-bound contenders.

Some fans have been coming to this event for sixty years, and frankly, they smell like it. Hovering over seating areas more cramped than Mumbai trains, ninety-degree temps create a definitive odor. The youth here represent the seedlings of the game’s future. Through not enough teeth, Rufus calls them “acorns among the oak trees.” Adolescent athletes dip spoons into Greek yogurt containers and stare out at their future, while the more veteran watchers plop down seat cushions and go to town on just-sliced Tri-Tip sandwiches. Many audience members sport unabsorbed white gobs of sunscreen on their noses and cheeks in ways that suggest either humility or hoarding is part of the DNA. Footwear leans toward sandals and much of the local citizenry’s attire is either hemp-sewn or sage-scented. Still, Ojai folk do know their tennis. On every tier of the three thousand-seat stadium, educated assessments abound.

“If she is going to win at the challenger level, she needs a heavier backhand.”

“Tour? Tour? You idiot, I [break wind] harder than this kid’s forehand.”

“He moves like he’s trying to lose a race.”

The Lady Bruin pulls out the win and now it’s time for the day’s premiere event – UCLA vs. USC in the men’s team competition. USC is the four-time consecutive national champion, but UCLA has beaten them two out of three times this year. Anyone old enough to remember the Miller Lite commercials circa 1980 will understand the rivalry here. Coaches Peter Smith and Billy Martin do not break bread together. As for the match details, I’ll leave it up to the true journalists. UCLA, however, emerges victorious and more than one fan suggests this team is headed to a national title.

I’ve spent thirteen hours watching tennis today. There were moments when I relived my own youth, when I witnessed fervent resilience and un-imaginable mental decay. On occasion, I saw tears and triumph in the same instant. I relish my fortune that I can live a life around this game. On my way out to the car, Rufus doffs his cap to me. I pick up an acorn and toss it in his direction, and then wave goodbye to a man, a tournament, and an era.

Topics: Ashe, Chang, College Tennis, Craig Cignarelli, Kristie Ahn, Kyle McPhillips, Mcenroe, Ojai tennis tournament, Southern California tennis news, Sports, Tarango, Tennis News, UCLA tennis, USC tennis