There was a time, a time before tennis. When the local teenager reigned supreme. When people believed everything they heard on TV. This was an age when only men were allowed to to play tennis. And in San Diego, one tennis player was more man then the rest. His name was Curtis. He was like a god walking amongst mere mortals. He had a voice that could make a wolverine purr and suits so fine they made Sinatra look like a hobo. In other words, Curtis was the balls.
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