When I was growing up in the Conroe area north of Houston in the mid- to late 1970s, there was a kid down our street who had a basketball goal on his driveway in our huge Oak Ridge North subdivision across I-45 from the newly developing The Woodlands. Ricky Eklof was five years younger than me, six years behind me in school, and growing fast. I can’t remember exactly when we started playing hoops at his house, but I’m thinking it was probably in 1976 when I was 15 and Ricky was just 10. That’s when I was a sophomore at Conroe High, always a year younger than my classmates because I’d started first grade at 5 in Houston.
I don’t think it’s too strong a statement to say Ricky loved and lived basketball, and he really enjoyed it when we played together, which was pretty often as I recall. The feeling was mutual. He was an earnest, learning, improving young player and I was a mediocre 6-2 player whose best skill was rebounding and whose shooting skills were inconsistent. As we played over the next several years and Ricky got older and better, it was clear his skills outshined mine, but that didn’t matter. And (I don’t think he’ll disagree with me) it was obvious neither of us were star-quality.
I never played school sports, choosing to focus instead on band. (Truthfully, I wasn’t good enough at either basketball or baseball to make a school squad). But I played youth baseball until 10th grade and on a Conroe YMCA basketball team coached by my Dad from 10th through 12th grades. I’m pretty sure my highest-scoring game was 10 points, but I usually hauled down 8 to 10 rebounds a game.
But back to Rick (I’m sure he hasn’t been called Ricky for a long time). That kid is now 59 and I’m 64, and we got together Saturday for a visit at the Arlington Tennis Center, where he was playing in a tournament. We’d seen each other 8 years ago or so, but not since then, even though we don’t live far apart — he and his wife Wendy and college twins Josh and Emily in the Richardson suburb north of Dallas and me and Kay and our college students Phoebe and Alex in SW Arlington.
Of course, he’s still the great guy I first met about 50 years ago. Still an in-shape, competitive athlete. For years, Rick donned a kilt and competed in powerlifting and strength sports at the Texas Scottish Festival and Highland Games, an annual event that used to be held in Arlington. He was big, brawny and beefy — not the same skinny boy who could shoot lights out and drive me to the hoop in his driveway. At his strongest, Rick could squat 500 pounds.
When I arrived at the tennis center Saturday, Rick was still in the first set of his closely contested match. I noticed his opponent looked much (much) younger than him. During a break between games, Rick came over to shake hands and I told him he was playing great, but why didn’t they pair him up with someone closer to his age? Because, he said, no one had signed up in the 55+ division so he had to play in the 18+. Ouch.
Later, a young lady sat down on a bench next to mine. I assumed she was the significant other of Rick’s opponent, so I asked, if she didn’t mind, how old he was. She said her boyfriend was playing on the next court but was friends with the guy playing Rick — and she said he was only 24! I was shocked the tournament organizers would pair up players so far apart in age.
But Rick played a heck of a match, losing the first set 6-4 before winning the second by the same score. Because the match had already gone two hours, an official said they should play a 10-point tiebreaker instead of another set. Rick had an early lead but lost the tiebreaker 10-7.
As we sat and visited afterward, I told Rick I was really impressed with his skills. He hasn’t been playing that many years, and to push a guy who could be his son — and whose strong serve was his main weapon — and hear Rick react vocally on the court to his unforced errors brought back memories of the competitive kid I got such a thrill out of balling with on Kane Lane so many years ago.
After I left for college at Texas A&M in 1979, when Rick was 13 and I was 18, he and I still played hoops during summers when I was home. He started at McCullough High School in The Woodlands in 1980 and played on the team there. His little brother Chris also played for the Highlanders. Like me, Rick chose to attend A&M (I’m sure I had nothing to do with it), and arrived there in 1984, a year after I graduated with a journalism degree and had already been a sports writer at The Odessa American for a year. Rick’s brother is also an Aggie (whoop!!).
Ten years ago, Rick defeated the toughest competitor he’ll ever face: colorectal cancer. He’s doing awesome and the proud father of his twins, who attend McMurry University in Abilene (Emily) and the University of North Texas (Josh).
Here’s hoping we’ll have more opportunities to get together in the near future. Maybe I can even get Rick out on the tennis court, although it’s been a while since I’ve played. I was inspired watching him play and have already asked Kay — who played tennis all the time as a kid — if we can give it a try again sometime. I pulled out my (very) old racket Saturday and cleaned it off. Just need to buy some new balls …. 
A Life of Words 