RECREATION
Older volunteers enjoy challenge as ball boys
By Ann Miller
Advertiser Staff Writer
At 29, Michael Chang is the oldest player in this week's Hilton Waikoloa Village USTA Challenger. He is hardly the oldest guy chasing tennis balls around the Kohala Tennis Garden.
Bruce Asato • The Honolulu Advertiser
That would be Sonny Crawford, 57, followed closely by Brian Shea, 53, Mark Beede, 47, David Berman, 44, and assorted other volunteers ready, semi-willing and mostly able to help while the more traditional ball boys are in school.
Mark Beede, left, Sonny Crawford, center, and David Berman are older than the typical ball boy or girl, but their enthusiasm runs high.
The ages of the ball boys at this week's world-class tennis tournament range from 10 to Crawford, a retired cancer survivor who boisterously — and totally in jest — claims he objects to his title.
"We are ball persons," Crawford says. "I am a ball man."
He earned his place in ball boy lore at last September's Big Island Championships. Sandrine Testud won the inaugural title while Hawai'i's "venerable" ball persons scurried across the courts.
It was a rare, very weird, sight.
Back then, the "mature" shaggers were recruited out of desperation. Beede, in charge of volunteers, could not come up with enough junior players midweek. And those that were working in the Big Island's brutal high-noon heat were wilting.
"Age was not really relevant," Beede recalls. "A warm body on the court to chase balls was relevant."
Paul Stuart, in charge of the ball boys, took a shift. Crawford, Shea and Berman — volunteering in other areas — were brought in.
"When I was first asked," Berman recalls, "I said, 'Don't you have to be 15 to be a ball boy?' "
Bruce Asato • The Honolulu Advertiser
Beede volunteered. A military chaplain and his daughter answered the call. Dick Hogsdon, a yachtsman from Connecticut, jumped in with both sneakers.
“You really have to be aware, which is rough when you’re 57 years old,” says Sonny Crawford.
"He had never played tennis," Crawford recalled. "He just happened to be vacationing and heard somebody ask for volunteers. He said, 'I'll do it.' By the time the tournament was over, he was taking lessons and he was not that bad."
It is a strange way of growing the game, as the U.S. Tennis Association likes to preach. It was also strangely rewarding. Pretty much all the "sophisticated" ball boys are back this week by choice to complement a crew that includes high school teams from Kohala, Mid-Pacific and Waipahu.
Apparently, they have recovered. Obviously, they enjoyed the heck out of it.
"It is the best place to watch a match," Beede claims. "One, you're on the court and the only person between you and the ball is the players. And two, you get a workout between points.
"It's actually a wonderful opportunity to watch a match. In a weird sense, you can get caught up in it. When the point is going on you're standing still. You get time to watch the match. But once the point is over, you gottta go. The rhythm is a little different."
The rhythm is radically different for these "older" volunteers. All share a passion for tennis, which is not always an edge. While anticipation is a huge part of playing the game, moving toward the ball while it is still in play is a ball boy's worst nightmare. It takes time and concentration to avoid that speed trap.
Keeping score is also crucial, to prevent a player from having to wait for a ball, especially on service changes without the luxury of a change-over. And hand-eye coordination is imperative. "We don't want to look like the Three Stooges," Beede says with a shrug.
"You've got to concentrate and watch where that ball is," Crawford says. "Then you have to know where your fellow ball person is. You don't want to go smack into each other, which would be very easy. You really have to be aware, which is rough when you're 57 years old."
Crawford did his advanced ball-man age group proud last fall, and is now living his new dream again.
"Being that close to the players, and when you see that ball moving as fast as it is real live like that ..." Crawford says, dreaming out loud, "it really is exciting. You got to do that at least once in your life."
Berman calls "not screwing up" the "Hippocratic oath" of ball boys all over the planet. He was in danger of breaking that oath on his first day, when four consecutive matches and a lack of vegetarian food, left him gimpy and grumpy on court.
He is in Waikoloa this week with a new attitude, and basic green food supplies.
"You feel like you're part of the match," Berman says, justifying his return. "It feels like the server is serving to you."
It is, Beede insists, the best seat in the house. But no sitting allowed.
