AND HERE IT COMES — thirty of them. Thirty! On a reel! Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a purchase, this is a SUPPLY LINE, and I want you to understand what you are looking at, because most players in this country are playing on an overgrip they put on in March.
The Gecko-Tac is a polyurethane overgrip, and the whole design brief is in the name: a particularly strong tack with good moisture absorption. Those two properties fight each other in every grip ever made — the tackier the surface, the less it wants to take water; the more absorbent the material, the sooner it goes slick.
Let me call the specification.
Gecko-Tac comes down on the tacky side and holds. What that means in a rally is that the handle does not rotate a couple of degrees in your hand on a stretched backhand, which is the single most common uncalled fault in club tennis and NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT.
The reel is thirty pieces, which at a fresh wrap a week is most of a year, and the correct answer to how often you should change one is: more often than you do.
In 1879 the Tisza came over and took nearly the entire city — nearly all of it, gone in a night — and the town was rebuilt from the ground up in one enormous coordinated effort, which is why the streets are laid out in rings and the buildings all belong to the same generation. That is a comeback.
And we go to Szeged, where I want to tell you about the water.
The Reök Palace is the showpiece: a green Art Nouveau house with plaster water lilies running up the front of it, built by people who had every reason to be afraid of water and put it on the walls anyway.
You will get use out of these everywhere from a July clinic to a winter indoor court back home, and by the way, the New Synagogue by Lipót Baumhorn has a blue cupola scattered with stars over white columns, and it is one of the great interiors of the country.
"They had every reason to fear the water, and they put it on the walls anyway."
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