“My shattered dreams and broken heart are mending on a shelf”
I was lonely on that day in my life. Afraid to show any signs of loneliness, I clung to the only coping mechanism I knew. I played tennis. As the sets drifted by on the scorecards, I survived the day. I played through the devastation swishing around in my mind. I untangled the clot of desperation in my heart. Pulling out and pushing on became the vernacular of my sadness.
I have plenty to say on the subject of sadness and loneliness. Tennis is a lonely game, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Life through the lonely lens is worthwhile. Valuable to the soul is the moment you find a reason to face another day. Doubly rewarding is finding a second reason. Robust is the heart that picks up the pieces and presses on, all while stinging a fluorescent ball. I am out of the wreckage and I have tennis to thank.
What is it about this game that captures the senses and comforts the soul? It’s not so much the game as the rhythm. The back and forth, the starts and stops, the breaks and plateaus. Tennis is so much more than a sport. It’s an analogy for life. So, why slice backhand? Not many players hit a slice backhand. It’s an unconventional, old school stroke. For me, it’s as natural as the grass that blankets the Wimbledon ground. I have been hitting a slice backhand since I started hitting tennis balls. I don’t have to force it. That’s how I try to approach my everyday life. Nothing is forced, only natural.
It would take a great amount of practice time to change my backhand into a flatter stroke. Habits are called so for a reason. It’s like when we can’t break from the past in our everyday lives. Is breaking from the past an outcome we really want to have occur? Is it just an excuse we give ourselves to justify present action? I’ve tried to reason with myself, arguing in my head about how I should or shouldn’t let go of the past. Here’s a grotesque example, and real first names, of course, will not be used. Roger broke my heart once. No, twice. No, actually it was three times (No, not that Roger, although he broke my heart too by capturing Pete Sampras' record.). My tortured mind just doesn’t think he’ll do it again. He has gorgeous eyes that can’t possibly hurt me a fourth time. We spent months together, cracking jokes and sharing milkshakes. It was just like the movies. But all good relationships come to an end if you don’t nurture them. When relationships end, every love song has the ability to upset the senses. It only gets uglier from there.
One day I see Roger holding hands with someone else. I immediately want to guide a photo of his gorgeous eyes through my paper shredder. Jealous much? Who wouldn’t be jealous of the hand that gets to hold Roger’s? It’s like when an opponent cranks a sideline winner. The ball totally blows you off the court with its aerodynamic sleekness. Don’t compliment her, you think to yourself. Heck with sportsmanship. You are darn jealous of her perfectly angled forehand winner. You are angry.
One must learn to control this ugly inside anger through cultivating and nurturing or it will tear you down. The same principle holds true for life and tennis. How do I deal with the Roger predicament? The same way I deal with a wild backhand that keeps sailing long. I don’t keep repeating the same poor mechanics. I adjust. I meet the ball out in front and turn up the topspin. I adjust. Roger is a heartbreaker. I know I gave it my best shot. Anger and reliving the past aren’t getting me anywhere. I must get ahead and turn up the dial on my expectations. I know what I want in life, just as I know where I want to place my serve in the service box. Why settle for less?
This is a blog about life through the heart and mind of a tennis player. It is a slice of thoughts and feelings collected through the years, on and off the courts. It’s an informative and fun tennis blog too. Tennis isn’t just a page in my history, it IS my history. The felt roller always finds me and triumphantly moves me…in the oddest ways and at the most unusual times. This brings me back to love songs and my reason for this post. I heard a song on the radio that, with tremendous effort, I still could not shake from my mind. It brought back a past I’ve tried so hard to forget. The song upset me, but it served a purpose. If I let it upset my senses, then I am clearly being moved. And I think if something has the ability to move you, you’re on your way to something great. Roger that?
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