“Success is a journey,
not a destination.
The doing is often more important
than the outcome.” 
Arthur Ashe

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,…” These immortal words written by Charles Dickens accurately describe my experience as an eighth grade student at Saint Gabriel School in San Francisco. While my junior high years were challenging for me both academically and socially, I found solace in a most unlikely place: the tennis court.

Dan Graham and I had been classmates since our kindergarten days at Ulloa Annex. It wasn’t until our eighth grade year that we started hanging out together. He introduced me to the world of photography (he even had his own darkroom in the garage of his home) and to the joy and wonder of maintaining a home aquarium of tropical fish. Of all the species represented in Dan’s tank, the neon tetra was my favorite, as it sported the red and blue colors of the high school Dan and I would attend a year later.

In September 1967, the start of our eighth grade year, Dan asked if I might be interested in joining a recreational tennis team at Sunset Playground. I had played around on the tennis courts at both South Sunset Playground near my home and at Washington Park in Burlingame. I was familiar with the rules of the game, but I’d never played competitively. The tennis program at Sunset Playground was mostly recreational. Team members played against each other for a place on the ladders of round metal tags with our names on them. In the spring of 1968, those at the top of the ladders (boys’ singles, girls’ singles, and mixed-doubles) would be invited to compete in the San Francisco City Tennis Championship Tournament at the Golden Gate Park Tennis Center.

Participating in this tennis program was the highlight of my eighth grade year. I enjoyed the friendly competition, the camaraderie of my teammates, and the guidance provided by our energetic coach. As a result of my newfound interest, I began paying attention to professional tennis, as well. Two of the top players at that time were San Francisco native Billie Jean King and Arthur Ashe, a native of Richmond, Virginia, who was the first and, so far, only African American male player to win the U.S. Open (1968) and Wimbledon (1975).

In the spring of 1968, I had the opportunity to participate in the city championship tournament in Golden Gate Park in the mixed-doubles division. My partner, Francesca Perotti, and I finished in first place. A short time later, the four tennis courts at Parkside Playground on Vicente Street were refurbished and dedicated to James B. Moffett, who was considered to be the founder of youth tennis in San Francisco. The dedication ceremony included an exhibition tennis match between Moffett’s daughter, Billie Jean King, and another San Francisco tennis legend, Peanut Louie. My friend Dan and I were the ballboys for that match.

At the end of the summer, as I was beginning my high school days at Saint Ignatius, I found myself interested in following the 1968 U.S. Open Men’s Tennis Tournament. In the championship match, Arthur Ashe defeated Tom Okker in five sets. 

Ashe was much more than just a tennis player. Following his career on the court, he went on to become an author (A Hard Road to Glory: A History of the African-American Athlete), an advocate for AIDS research, and the founder of the Arthur Ashe Institute for Urban Health. He was committed to creating programs to educate inner city residents about the importance of health care. 

Arthur Ashe died 21 years ago today. He once described his life using the exact same phrase I would use to describe my own — as a “succession of fortunate circumstances.”