For the Love of the Game
In the summer of 1987, I feel in love for the very first time. The love affair that bloomed nearly 25 summers past still remains my mistress. As a twelve year-old boy I discovered the game of tennis – I loved everything about the game. The smell of new balls, how the ball sounds on the strings, the feel of new grip.
In my mind, the entire game made sense – points turn into games, games in sets, and sets in victories or defeats. I loved the logistics of every point. The fact there is no hiding in tennis, no time outs, no substitutions – it is just you in the arena. As Yoda once said, “do or do not, there is no try.”
In the summer of 1987, my friends and I assembled on my neighbor’s tennis court, picked-up rackets, some old balls and started playing. I was instantly addicted to the game that would become my love affair. I checked a book out of the library to learn how to play. I still remember an illustration showing a man pressing down on an accelerator showing what do do with the front foot on a forehand.
I wanted to play tennis all of the time! I heart broken when other people occupied the court and I, the spectator. Mid-summer my parents bought me my first tennis racket – a ProKennex. If my memory serves me correctly, I slept with the racket next to me for a week.
The following summer, my parents signed me up for tennis lessons through the local recreation center. My first real tennis lessons! The lessons were held at Saline High School and it was Mecca to me. There were eight courts – eight courts!!!! A whole new group of kids that wanted to play tennis all the time like me. Initially, I was only signed up to play two days a week but I begged my mom to sign me up for both sessions the second half of the summer. She did! My pilgrimage to Mecca was no short haul either - I had to bike six miles round trip on a 10-speed each day to play tennis. It was pure joy.
I played multiple sports in high school and never had the skills necessary to make the varsity tennis team till my senior year. Going into my senior year it was my only goal to make the Varsity squad. I knew that I had to practice over the winter and to do that I had to join a club. I could only afford to play in the evenings because it simply cost too much indoors. So, I would wake-up 5:30am, drive to club, and hit with anyone I could find for an hour. It was free to hit before 8am. Luckily, I found a several tennis geeks hanging around the courts ready to hit before the sun raised. I played three to five times per week in the mornings and just barely made the Varsity team at three doubles.
After high school, I put down the rackets for the better part of fifteen years. Sure, there were occasional summers where I dusted off the rackets in closet and hit but nothing serious. Luckily, I have found the love of the game once more and a great group of guys to play with on a regular basis.
I hope one day to share my love of tennis with my son and daughter. To teach them, that tennis is very much like life – what you put into it is what you get out of it. If you worry about inputs, hard work and dedication, the outputs will take care of themselves. That tennis is like life, it is best played, not watched.