TENNIS PALS TRULY LOVE THEIR COUNTY.
WHEN HE JOINED THE TENNIS GROUP 15 YEARS AGO, NFB PRODUCER SELWYN JACOB’S GOAL WAS TO STAY IN SHAPE. THEN HE CAME TO KNOW THE MOTLEY CREW AND THEIR INCREDIBLE STORIES.
‘Well, I hope you’ve solved all of the world’s problems!” the woman at the coffee shop says.
We make our presence felt, my tennis buddies and I. We come here after every session, an eclectic group in our 60s, 70s and 80s. Maybe we’ve lost a step or two, but we still play four days a week — sometimes five if there’s a holiday — rain or shine.
When I first joined the group, I naively asked the guys when they stop playing for the winter. They don’t. They just change location when the courts near our homes in Vancouver’s Dunbar neighbourhood are wet and too slippery.
I’ve been playing tennis with this group for more than 15 years. We call ourselves the Dunbar Irregulars. A core group of around 14 of us play (ir)regularly and go for coffee and dim sum. It’d be great if we did solve the world’s problems, but really we do it for the camaraderie.
When I joined the group, I didn’t feel like I really belonged, and played to stay in shape. The guys had been playing together for decades and were mostly retirees, unlike me. So when we left the courts, I went home. Then one day I followed them to the coffee shop. I’ve been hooked ever since.
My wife passed away just over three years ago. Needless to say, it hasn’t been easy. I’m not the only one in the group to lose a spouse, and we’ve had health scares. But we don’t dwell on loss or negativity. Aside from standard complaints about our various ailments, we mostly discuss sports and politics — and we don’t start playing until the discussion is finished.
My wife knew how much being on the courts with the guys meant to me. Even when she was in the hospital, she would casually remind me: “Don’t forget your tennis this weekend.”
I wish I’d taken the opportunity to tell her more about some of these interesting characters.
Les Jozsa is playing well enough to let his guard down and utter his favourite saying on the court: “I could do this all day.” He then proceeds to hit the ball into the net.
When the Soviets invaded Les’s native Hungary in 1956, Canada received tens of thousands of Hungarian refugees. Among them was the entire forestry program of Sopron University — 200 students and 28 faculty who moved en masse to the University of British Columbia (UBC). Les was one of the students.
This unique arrangement was supposed to be a stopgap — they continued their classes in Hungarian, in temporary old army huts. But it soon became clear they wouldn’t be returning home, so they gradually integrated into UBC’s general student body. Most of them graduated, and over 80 per cent became Canadian citizens and remained in Canada.
Les and his fellow graduates took up forestry-related positions in academia, government and industry across North America, but particularly here in B.C. Coming from a place with a legacy of deforestation, they brought a new understanding of stewardship and husbandry that helped change B.C. forestry practices for the better.
Today, Les is retired and spends much of his time painting and carving. His greatest piece is a permanent marker of the Sopron graduates’ legacy — a traditional Hungarian carved gate outside UBC’s forestry faculty that symbolizes freedom and gratitude.
“I’m still thinking of getting a cellphone one day,” Bill Dong exclaims. He wants to keep up with his grandkids and has the outward demeanour of someone much younger — until he declares he’s too old to play tennis two days in a row.
Bill invited me for dim sum the week following my wife’s funeral. Today, we think nothing of Vancouver’s Chinese attributes, but Bill is acutely aware this hasn’t always been the case. In 1922, his great uncle — a Vancouver Island coal miner — paid the $500 head tax so Bill’s father could enter Canada. Back then, you could buy a house with $500.
Growing up in the 1930s and ’40s, Bill remembers being barred from public swimming pools and can list the Vancouver neighbourhoods Chinese weren’t allowed to live in, such as Shaughnessy and the British Properties. In 1948, two years after Chinese Canadians were granted the right to vote, Bill entered university. It was the first year UBC programs like pharmacy, law and commerce were open to Chinese students. After graduation, he applied to work at the Hudson’s Bay Company and still remembers the name of the man who said to him, “Sorry, we don’t hire Orientals.”
Undeterred, Bill went on to a successful career in retail, construction and real estate. All these years later, he’s proud to be among the first group of Chinese students to graduate from UBC in Commerce. Proud that all four of his daughters went to UBC. And proud that so many Chinese names grace campus buildings — especially the Commerce building.
Bill keeps his father’s head tax certificate to show how far the Chinese have come in B.C., and how much better off his descendants are.
Casey van Breemen was born in Singapore to Dutch parents. When he was six, he was interned with his family for three years in a Japanese Concentration Camp in Indonesia. It was a brutal experience that marked him for life: “I almost died in the camp. They had given me up for dead, basically.”
Casey had been on the brink of starvation, and credits the abrupt end to the war in 1945 for his survival. His family returned to Holland and then followed his brother to Alberta. The deprivation of the camp had spurred his brother to become a farmer “so he would never go hungry again.”
For his part, Casey’s neardeath experience caused him to wonder about the very nature of existence. He became a scientist in biological systems, first as a veterinarian — because of his farming background — and then as a professor in physiology and pharmacology.
Most of the Irregulars seek Casey’s advice regarding medication and prescription drugs. His larger contribution, however, is an accomplished academic career committed to improving human health and well-being. But you won’t hear him boast about it.
When journalists need insightful commentary on Vancouver’s Chinese culture or history, they go to Joe Wai.
As an architect, his structures are integral to the identity of the city’s Chinatown and Strathcona districts. As a heritage advocate, he has made crucial contributions to preserving the character of these cherished neighbourhoods.
Joe is perhaps best known as one of the designers of the now 30-year-old Dr. Sun Yatsen Classical Chinese Garden. He was adamant the garden be faithful to tradition, so it was prefabricated in China and then constructed entirely by hand — no power tools or modern fasteners — in Vancouver by more than 50 Chinese craftsmen.
As one of his regular partners on the tennis court and at coffee, I’ve seen him use both sarcasm and intellect to assert his place. He’s proud of Chinese culture in Canada and the contributions of Vancouver’s Chinese community to the city fabric. And he’s vocal about ensuring those contributions are recognized, especially given the city’s history.
And then there’s me. Many of my films are about events or individuals that have had a profound impact on Canadian life, but aren’t part of our official national narrative. My most recent film, Ninth Floor, resonated with audiences throughout North America and the Caribbean. It’s about a defining moment in Canadian race relations — a 1969 student occupation in Montreal sparked by the alleged racism of a university professor. I also produced a feature documentary on Harry Jerome, a black sprinter from Vancouver who, despite setting seven world records in the 1960s — including the 100-metre and 100-yard dash simultaneously — has faded from the public consciousness.
By now, most of the guys know I’m a producer with the NFB, and that I make films. So whenever a question comes up about cinema, everyone looks to me. Gordon in particular likes old Hollywood movies, and often asks, “Selwyn, who was that gal in that movie…?”
A few years ago, after enough intimations from the guys that they don’t get out enough anymore, I started film nights. So now, in addition to tennis and coffee, we have movie nights, regular dim sum lunches and other gatherings.
Despite my earlier reluctance, today I’m a full-fledged member of this group and a good friend to them. What are the odds that our lives, which began in different parts of the world, would end up intersecting in Vancouver? I’m just glad I decided to join them for coffee.