Needlepoint Etiquette--Who Knew?

The Delray Beach Men's Professional Tennis Open happened this January! Take that Covid! Social distancing and masks required, but we tennis fans are known for manners and adhering to simple rules. (It’s not that hard!)

I'm a fan. I jump at the chance to go the US Open in Queens and Wimbledon in London. I have high hopes to see the French Open in Paris and the Rio Open (Hint: It’s not in Kansas City). In case you don't know, Reader, I’m a flight attendant, not a millionaire. I finagle  my work trips to these locales when the events occur. Most tournaments last two weeks and I’m thrilled to attend for a day or two. Any more than that, I get tennis neck (and a tad bored). I have two friends that, I’ll fictitiously call Rane and Jane.(I did not obtain their permission to be mentioned in my much-read blog.) They ADORE tennis. Jane works at the US Open, while her sister Rane, volunteers. When they aren’t assisting fans with seats or answering questions, they are watching matches. Any match. A player with no vowels in her name and seeded #222 gets as much of their adoration as Serena. (Well, not really true, but for this story, that’s what I’m saying). They may disown me for my recent activity at the courts. 

Back to Delray and the tournament. I slather myself with sun screen, turn my phone to vibrate, and pack my needlepoint (a kitschy project featuring an air stream trailer, palm tree, and flamingo-trés Florida). I like the 10 minute walk from my apartment to the tournament. I will admit, lots of heat or threat of rain keeps me home. During the first week, social distancing is not a problem. . .whatsoever. 

I sadly reiterate that tennis can be slightly boring. (Not golf boring! Lord! Nothing rivals that). Left. Right. Left. Right. My neck cramps! I know it’s bad when my inner dialogue debates which player sweats more. My neck needed a break (figuratively speaking), so I quietly slide out my needlepoint, lick the thread and feed it into the needle eye and stitch away. Just to educate you, the players have 25 seconds to serve the ball, 90 seconds between games, and two minutes between sets. (Now you know!) So, needlepoint really is a productive, unobtrusive activity that pairs nicely with rooting for your favorite player and contributing to the local economy. Right?

The challenge comes when I decide to move from the grandstands where there are about 20 people to the doubles match. Here, there are four fans scattered amongst three benches. The players are resting on chairs between sets on either side of the umpire’s raised throne. I reach to retrieve my needle point and make eye contact with one of the players. I mean, my hazel eyes lock on his lovely blue ones. That’s how close I am to the action (and consequently, inaction)!  I put myself in this player’s tennis shoes. How would I feel if I were out here getting chaffed and sunburnt for the crowd (us 4) and someone went to task on her stitching? I let my beakless flamingo sit quietly on the bench while I cheer for my favorite team. 

When I get home, I excitedly show my husband my needlepoint progress (accomplished during the grandstand match).

“I thought you were at the tennis?”

“I did, but you know—I got bored.”

“What!?? You did that during a match??!” He looks horrified at the canvas on the 2’ x 3’ wooden frame like it’s covered with flamingo droppings. His mouth opens to continue, but he's interrupted by a knock on the door. He shakes his head at me. “I hope it’s the tennis officials baring you from attending any more matches!”

“But I didn’t do it during the doubles!” I retort, defensively. I slide the needlepoint under the sofa cushion as the door swings open.