A great motivation and part of the original incentive for the Tarts to get onto the tennis court in the first place, were the obvious health benefits. The fresh outdoor air, the aerobic antics and the chasing down of gravity defying lobs and searing cross courts. Given the strenuous nature of our chosen sport, it is not unusual to walk onto the court on a Sunday morning to find Rose lying on her back on the court with her legs bent backwards over her head in what I assume to be a limbering up exercise of yoga origin, or Theresa is doing some stretching lunges against the net. I never have to warm up because I’m pretty well warmed up by the time I reach the court from always running late. Meg doesn’t have to warm up either. She usually arrives at tennis directly from some grueling triathlon or marathon, sometimes with her race number still pinned on her back.
So it stands to reason that our usual post-tennis snacks in the form of champagne and cholesterol loaded Woolies kettle-fried chips dipped in MSG-loaded guacamole laced with lashings of sour cream, (the non-light version), don’t do much for our original intention of improving our health status. I can just picture our now deceased former Health Minister lying in her hospital bed after her 5th liver transplant, with a Jack Daniels clutched in one hand and a Man-size KFC Box Meal in the other, reading “The Tennis Tarts Guide to Healthy Living” on her Kindle and saying, “Eish, thees ees so unhealthy, thees tennis, sies! I theenk we must ban it. Where ees the sweet potato and the beetroot? Khuli! Where ees that lazy slut? Khuli? Get Jacob on the phone now! What you mean you don’t have ehtime? We get R100 000,00 ehtime every month from the texpayers. Call heem now and tell heem I want thees tennis banned. Eet ees very unhealthy, slurp, and theese peoples are heving too much fun!”
Well we beat her to it, for one Sunday anyway .... Rose had decided to embark on a metabolic diet and arrived at tennis with freshly peeled, julienned carrots, her own home-grown rocket and because it was the official diet declared “Cheese Day”, a tub of cream cheese, cubes of Feta and thinly sliced cheddar. Our Health Minister would have been impressed, even my almond-coated, sugar-dusted fruit mince pies were ignored in favour of Rose’s health buffet. In our defence, we were hungry, very hungry as a result of all that high speed, exhilarating ball chasing around the court. Besides, it was all quite delicious, especially accompanied by the bottle of chilled champagne I suspect our Minister would have approved of. So bring on the next diet Rose, and may our Minister R.I.P. Cheers!
