Editor, Daily Nexus,

Most people who are involved with competitive tennis are dicks. I should know. I have come in contact with more than my fair share of racket-wielding megalomaniacs.

In the past, I have been shooed from many public and private courts by men in tiny white shorts for various reasons, the most common being priority use of the court for teaching lessons. At best, I’m politely asked to leave; at worst, ignored with subdued pretension by an instructor who walks stridently across my court, a few times in the middle of a point. Protest is futile as I’m replaced by some awkward adult or despondent 10-year-old and my opponent by a basket of balls and a prunish tennis instructor.

Recently, during a rescheduled afternoon intramural tennis match, I was one point away from closing my first match when two bouncing players from the UCSB women’s tennis team walked onto my court.

My pleas went politely ignored when a gnarled leather-skinned beast hidden behind oversized sunglasses roared from the next court over, “Get off the court no matter what your fucking score is!”

Granted, my $15 intramural fee can’t compare to the school’s investment in its athletic programs, but the verbal attack showed a lack of class. If we had put up more than five seconds of resistance, verbally accosted one of the girls or had not asked twice beforehand if the team would need the court, I would have expected such a reaction.

Instead, with my tail between my legs I quickly gathered my racket and balls, walked off the court and mentally filed this jerk in the long list of assholes I’ve met through playing tennis.