Column: The Purist

It was green with white lines from the very beginning. Just over 20 years ago, I set foot in the world of professional tennis. I was 25 years old and had been set up to meet Patrick McEnroe, a boy I had grown up with and had known since I was 4. From the evening we met as adults, we were a couple; the chemistry was instant. He had been my older brother’s best friend in grade school, and his mother (the majestic Kay McEnroe) had seen me starring on Broadway in My Fair Lady and had been telling Patrick, who was on the ATP tour, to look me up on his sojourns in New York City. She said, “Patrick, you should look up the Erricos—the Melissa daughter is an actress, went to Yale, she’s always in the paper, you never know…” and so I have often told Kay that this is ‘an arranged marriage’ and she still shoots back with a confident (and, luckily, unhesitatingly happy) “Yes!”

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