When I was 12, I lived on a military installation in Germany. My housing unit was right next door to some tennis courts that belonged to the Junior High School. In March of that year, I started noticing a guy out playing on the courts by himself. He would spend hours rotating between serving and then hitting against the backboard. As my curiosity increased, I went from my bed room window to standing out side the fence. After a couple of days, he asked me if I wanted to learn. Eagerly I said yes. So he taught me a forehand, two-handed backhand and how to hit a flat serve. During our conversations I came to find out he was preparing for the qualies for the French Open. Unfortunately, I totally lost touch with him and never found out how he actually did. But the rest is as we say, is History.