The Foreign Service Journal, October 2018

THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL | OCTOBER 2018 77 It turned out to be a legitimate hard-scrabble battle. Meanwhile, in the halls of the chancery and over lunch in the cafete- ria, conversations turned to strategy. Should I seek to win, or allow the sena- tor to do so? Should I ensure a tough struggle, deliberately drawing it out? Or show unambiguous dominance, to underscore some larger political point? Pluses and minuses were offered on both sides. The assumptions being made struck me as flawed, deceived by appearances. In my early 30s at the time, I was a good athlete and still in my physical prime. Senator Specter was more than twice my age, and on a different curve in life’s arc entirely; he was not yet stricken by the cancer that felled him years later, but still. Advantage Ludwig, the think- ing went. The point turned out to be moot. We met in the locker room, minutes before the match was to begin. I was still lacing my tennis shoes when he walked in. I saw an opportunity for an exchange of pleasantries, but the good senator was having none of it. His focus was elsewhere. I’m not even sure we shook hands. I quickly understood that, for him, this episode would be about the squash and the squash alone. Conversa- tion would play no role. Fine. It turned out to be a legitimate hard- scrabble battle, with lots of running and sweating, a succession of momentum shifts and many tough points fought down to the wire. There was no reason to play it one way or the other, just to play it. Thank God! All told, we were evenly matched. The senator had the advantages of technique, rhythm and experience, as well as the clear desire to win; I had stam- ina, speed and athleticism on my side. Let the record show that I was recovering from a chest cold at the time, which caused me to get winded more easily than I might have otherwise. I had also been away from the courts for a number of years, and was out of practice. As a result, I blew a series of potentially easy kills. Apart from that, for good or ill, Senator Specter beat me fair and square. Perhaps that’s why he shook my hand before he bid me “adios,” turned, and headed for the showers. n