Do Not Feel Sorry For Me If

...i Spent Many, Many Hours In...libraries. Libraries Became Courts Of Last Resort, As It Were.

We Blacks Look For Leadership In Men And Women Of Such Youth And Inexperience, As Well As Poverty Of Education And Character, That It Is No Wonder That We Sometimes Seem Rudderless.... We See Basketball Players And Pop Singers As Possible Role Models, When Nothing Could Be Further, In Most Cases, From Their Capacities.

A Wise Person Decides Slowly But Abides By These Decisions.

I Strongly Believe The Black Culture Spends Too Much Time, Energy And Effort Raising, Praising, And Teasing Our Black Children About The Dubious Glories Of Professional Sports.

There Were Times When I Asked Myself Whether I Was Being Principled Or Simply A Coward.... I Was Wrapped In The Cocoon Of Tennis Early In Life, Mainly By Blacks Like My Most Powerful Mentor, Dr. Robert Walter Johnson Of Lynchburg, Virginia. They Insisted That I Be Unfailingly Polite On The Court, Unfalteringly Calm And Detached, So That Whites Could Never Accuse Me Of Meanness. I Learned Well. I Look At Photographs Of The Skinny, Frail, Little Black Boy That I Was In The Early 1950s, And I See That I Was My Tennis Racquet And My Tennis Racquet Was Me. It Was My Rod And My Staff.