3.1

SYLVIA: "Love-thirty." You're supposed to say "love-thirty." You serve, you call out the score. MACE: Yeah, Tommy, you're supposed to call out the score. It was a hot, sticky afternoon in early September. The sky was blue over the tennis courts at Lincoln Park in Santa Monica, but to the east, you could see nothing but the brown haze of smog that spent the summer hanging over LA. My buddy Tommy, my girlfriend Sylvia and I were playing tennis--Sylvia on one side, me and Tommy on the other. Sylvia’s friend Dana had canceled at the last minute. Some people call it Australian doubles. Other people call it Canadian doubles. In our case, you could call it Tommy and Mace get slaughtered.