commit very few unforced errors. By most accounts, Pilate breezed into the third round of the tourney. He was scarcely challenged in his first two matches, although his now-famous rally with Chuckie Smoltz in the second round of the tournament proved that he had astonishing degrees of patience and endurance. Pilate hit seventy-eight consecutive counterdrives to the exact same spot on the table. Expertly snapping his wrist, yawning, he returned everything Chuckie shot at him. Pilate sang a few verses of "Sympathy for the Devil," mimicking MickJagger's rooster strut at his end of the table. Chuckie finally snapped and blasted the ball against the wall. "Is there a problem?" Pilate asked, lifting his eyebrows innocently. "Do you have a pie baking in the oven, Chuckie? Is that why you are in such a great hurry to go home?" Chuckie quickly lost the next three points and the match. Pilate laughed and ran his hand through his snarled, shoulderwlcngth brown hair and strolled to his chair. "I refuse to make a mistake," he announced, toweling ofT his unshaved neck and face. "I will keep returning the ball until somebody, not me, makes an unforced error. Eventually, everyone makes a mistake. And I have the patience to wail. Do you, Chuckie?" Chuckie Smoltz stomped out of the room. "I guess nol. See you next year, my friend!" Pilate called to him. 'What can be said about Pilate's footwork? Occasionally, in a tough match, he used a lateral crossover technique that seemed all but impossible in his heavy robes. When performed properly, the crossover is the most graceful way to cover four feet of Ooorwspace quickly. Crossing one dusty sandal quickly behind the other, Pilate could move hum the backhand corner to the forehand corner in the blink of an eye. In short, he had an allwaround game, no weaknesses. Most of the guys at the Y wore lightweight shorts and T62
HJGUE #24