Breakin tha law, Westchester style

For some reason the Village of Larchmont sees fit to lock up its tennis courts in winter, vexing Rob and me to no end. Yesterday, we got even. We arrived at the courts "across the tracks" by Murray Ave at 3 or so, and found them locked, but another pair of bold lads, dressed in black, one with a full red beard, had scaled the 12 foot fence and were playing. Enboldened, we chucked out racquets over and followed suit. I sustained a light gash in my calf from one of the sharp fence ends at the top, but reasoned that any rust had not penetrated deep enough to warrant a tetanus shot.

At some point in time a cop came by and checked us out. Security was probably extra tight, since we were within a few blocks of Timothy Geithner's crib up on Maple Hill Drive. But once they had cased us, and despite my New Jersey plates and ancient Outback wagon, they left us in peace. Whereupon I let loose a display of deft, well-angled shots.