Sweat and Balls

I absolutely love tennis. My children play tennis. My husband and I even try to play tennis. But what I cannot bear to see is those poor ball boys and girls handling those sweaty towels.
I suppose some would be delighted to have the sweaty DNA of Fedderer or Sharapova in their hands but on a serious note it is quite disgusting. When I see the tennis player point at his towel I think to myself about what those poor boys and girls are thinking.
Maybe they are not bothered, just deliriously happy to be in the presence of a great player or perhaps they try to hold it with the tips of their fingers and pray they won’t be asked to get it too often.
I don’t have a solution. Perhaps the towels could be placed on a tray. I remember seeing on television once, a match with Billie Jean King at Wimbledon. She and her opponent had to get their own drinks, did not have a seat and had to stand up in the sun with no umbrella!
How far we have come that now our tennis players only need to point and everything is to hand.