Honestly, I got sick of watching folks scramble around our tennis center like headless chickens right before their matches. Always forgetting balls or rushing to buy them while the front desk line snaked out the door. Total chaos.
Why I Pulled The Trigger
Last summer was nuts. Saw three grown adults nearly spill blood over the last can of balls in the pro shop. That’s when I dragged my buddy Mike out to lunch and ranted: “We need a damn ball machine. Yesterday.”
Started digging online for used vending machines that weekend. Most were either rust buckets or cost as much as a small car. Almost threw in the towel until I found this clunky 90s model on a marketplace app. Owner swore it worked fine – “just needs a little love.” Drove two hours through torrential rain with my pickup truck to haul that dinosaur home.
Making That Junker Actually Work
First disaster? The coin slot ate quarters like candy. Had to bust it open with screwdrivers smeared in WD-40 at 11 PM while mosquitoes ate me alive. Replaced the mechanism with a card reader kit I ordered online – took three tries to wire it properly.
Next struggle: mounting it. Cemented it near Court 3 where everyone walks by. Bad call. Heavy wind knocked it sideways after two days. Woke up to balls scattered like confetti across the parking lot. Had to anchor the base with concrete bolts while Mike heckled me from a lawn chair drinking beer.
How It Actually Changed Our Center
- Staff stopped playing referee during rush hour. No more shrieking “I WAS HERE FIRST!” at reception
- Early birds grab balls at 5 AM when we’re closed. Got texts like “dude the machine saved my tournament warmup!”
- Unexpected bonus? The machine’s become a piggy bank. Pays for its own maintenance plus new court brooms.
Biggest win? Watching grumpy league players morph into happy campers. No more frantic ball hunts – just tap your card and play. Worth every hour spent wrestling with that rusty beast in the rain.