One good thing about old money is that it's old. In this westside enclave of prewar mansions and prewar millions, old doesn't get around like it used to, which means it doesn't get outside to these barely-used tennis courts and grass nearly hidden under the shade of even older trees. There's no shame in taking advantage of the nearby residents' infirmity, or in breaking up the quiet with a few games of tennis on a court that hasn't seen much action since the Korean War. Once you've played your fill, ponder your own mortality in the shadows of houses with lawns the size of your building — and then realize that these neighbors probably have their own tennis courts back there somewhere. Then play again next week — this time, doubles.