As I write this, on a shelf near me is a tennis trophy. I won it in a national tournament. Let me explain.

Several years ago, I played on a United States Tennis Association team in a 50 and over league. It was all doubles, of course. They don’t let old codgers play singles. We might hurt ourselves. We played against other teams at our level from the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. We won 10 consecutive matches, and a playoff against South Dakota. That qualified us for the nationals.

This was the first senior team most of us had played on. Among others, the team included a teacher, an attorney, a property manager, a construction company executive, a physician, and the proprietor of a ladies apparel shop, all sane and balanced men—until they got to the nationals.

On a morning in October,...

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