I love it when a gamble pays off. Last week, in a league tennis match, my partner (the dependable Dan the Man) and I had scraped our way back from a 6-1 first-set drubbing. We had a valuable set point against serve, and Dan had pushed one of our opponents wide on the backhand.

They inevitably flipped a lob, which caught the infamous high gust on Fish Hoek’s A court. I moved in for a set-clinching smash. But as I glanced up, the early-afternoon sun caught me square in the eyes. Everything was an orange blur, and all I could hear was the panicked scuttling of our opponents...

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