A Point to Ponder

“You may not know this, but you are everything you ever needed”

Imagine for a moment you’re behind in a tennis game, about to be broken on serve, with the score reading 30-40. You serve up an ace to knot the score at deuce and fight off the break chance. Imagine doing this repeatedly throughout a match. Every time you get close to going down a break, it’s you who strikes back. There are some players who continually fend off break points, and win matches by a hair. What is it that lifts them up in those moments and keeps them from losing it? I think it’s the same stamina, perseverance and will that propel us through life’s near breaks. Do you ponder these points only when you are forced to withstand them, or do you actively seek to avoid such pivotal situations?

I like to think as the great Yankee Yogi Berra did: “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over” is a great catchphrase for the positive, persevering mind. I often wonder if we truly believe that though. Yesterday I was watching Serena Williams topple Flavia Pennetta in the U.S. Open quarterfinal. Williams all but had the match in the bag after the first few games of the second set even though the match wasn’t officially in the books. How do we determine the point where we can no longer fend off a break? Have you ever stood by as someone’s life completely fell apart, point after point? Some of the time, there is more than meets the eye. Underneath the surface of our lives, of our serves, often lies the inability to fend off the break. You can come out on the other side knotted at deuce, avoid the situation entirely or declare it over before the end begins. The outcome is all in what you believe, and that is the main point to ponder.

“But we’ll come back alive, ‘cause only the strong survive”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HqSm90hlZM

The Injured Player's Predicament

“I’ll mend myself before it gets me”

With today’s news of defending champion, Raphael Nadal’s withdrawal from the U.S. Open, it makes sense to talk tennis injuries. Injuries are inevitable in sport. The human body can only take so much wear and tear before it breaks down. Conditioning can help reduce the risk of injury in many cases. But even the fittest athletes suffer ailments from overuse, mechanical breakdowns and freak accidents. Nadal’s aggravated right wrist is a setback for fans who were hoping to see another Novak/Nadal showdown. Roger Federer will certainly benefit from his rival’s withdrawal. Federer, the favorite, will land the number two seed in the tournament.  Rafa’s absence also opens up the field for other talented players on the men’s side.

Nadal is a warrior, with violent and stabbing groundstrokes. Tennis is a sport where injuries cannot be taken lightly, where players cannot just shake or brush off the pain. The wrist, elbow and forearm are valuable and delicate essentials in the sport of tennis. Baseball, hockey and basketball players may suffer wrist pain or elbow injuries and still be able to participate. But at what cost is an injury more of a serious pitfall than losing court, ice or turf time?  Professional and college players have the advantage of staff physicians to advise them whether to play or rest. The casual sports participant does not always have the wherewithal to nurse an injury, and so the injured player’s dilemma often ensues. I have been in this boat many times. Most recently, I have suffered a stabbing, sharp pain to my shoulder and neck following heavy hitting sessions. I love tennis and have been far too stubborn to rest what I believe is a reactivated pinched nerve. At what point should we “club players” withdraw from the sports we love so much? Do you have more to lose by withdrawing?

Obviously, the answer lies in the extent of the injury. It is not smart to play through an injury that could escalate into something more severe with permanent damage. Only you can know your body, and each athlete responds differently to injuries. Be smart. Pride should not be a reason you continue playing when injured. If only I could take my own advice…or a cue from Mr. Nadal.

“I’m fallen down but I’ll rise above this”

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3WhJIdwS52U

Trophies

“..and mirrors of success reflect in me”

A trophy is a reward of evidence and recognition for a specific accomplishment. They are symbols of victory and merit. Trophies are most often handed out to the winners of sporting events. Seldom few elite tennis players rise through the ranks without being recipients of at least a few trophies along the way. Their trophies are nothing more than prizes, an endgame for the work that produced recognition.

My first trophy was awarded to me as an eleven-year-old Little Leaguer. As a group, our Phillies softball team earned the trophy for the Major Girls’ title. The golden-colored softball player that stands on top of the marble platform is a symbol specific to the sport of softball. It is symbolic of hard work and effort. Not every Little Leaguer receives a trophy just for showing up to the ball field every game. No, the trophies are dedicated to those few who accomplish victory. But some of us are victorious in other ways, in ways that don’t always warrant a trophy. Trophies are designed for winners, but the real reward comes long after the trophy begins collecting dust.

What would your life’s trophy look like? Our true contributions, the ones that touch people’s lives, most often go unrecognized. Has someone ever “won you over” without a trophy? There are folks who never know their effort has produced a winner. Think about all these intangible actions for a moment: A smile or understanding gaze. A few words spoken to change someone’s mind. The silent prayers. The friend who gives gracefully. Battlefield soldiers long forgotten in good season. Relationships joined together without proof or reason.  It’s so easy to declare a winner in sports. The tennis player who tallies the highest amount of games will earn that trophy. The player who prevails always receives the highest recognition.  There are accomplishments in life too. Merit awards. Talent trophies. Career recognitions. These symbols are all very special, but I argue the most important trophy of all is the one no ever places on a mantle. The trophy unseen, the one earned not just by tangible contributions, is the true reward.

“…I’m that star up in the sky”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkzRHxd_4ZE

Story Of My Life

“She told me in the morning she don’t feel the same about me in her bones…”

 

If cars could talk..

 

“Hi, my name is Bruce. I am supposedly named after Bruce Wayne a.k.a Batman. A superhero I am not, but don’t tell my owner that. She seems to think I am as good as any Batmobile ever constructed. I remember the first time she spotted me at the car lot in Middletown, New York. She knew I was the one and my engine revved a little quicker at the thought of driving home with her. After our test drive together, I overheard her tell the salesman she could pick me up the next day. It still baffles me that she selected me over the other models. I had been a “loaner” my while three years so what did I know about love at first drive?

Our first year in Goshen was special. She took me everywhere, and took good care of me too. I was a little concerned about the way she handled me, especially at night. She never wore her glasses and I was scared for my life a time or two. I had heard stories from friends about crashes and wrecks, and wanted no part of that lifestyle. It was bad enough we had to ride through Hurricane Irene together. I did my best to stay on the road and above the water. And then there was the time she not-so-brilliantly decided to drive to work in an ice storm. She must have been nervous because she turned around and landed in a ditch. My wheels were too weak to escape the slick black ice. I didn’t leave her stranded though. I eventually pulled her out of there, but she had to keep stepping on my brakes and accelerator. I thought for sure I was going to need outside assistance.

One time, I hit a deer on Goshen Turnpike. I hear this isn’t so rare for cars driving in that area. The deer survived. Our trips to New Paltz were also intriguing. She would sit inside me and study if we arrived early. A stranger tried to get in me one night after her late class. She was so bold and forward, approaching him and declaring to him that this was HER car. I was so proud, but also kept thinking to myself how silly for a girl to approach a man trying to open her car door. It turned out to be an honest mistake by another tired student.

Yep, we had some great memories. I have taken her on trips and job interviews. Sometimes she would pray and a time or two, I even heard her crying. She kept a box of tissues in my back seat for these occasions. A few years back, she informed me she was moving to Texas. I was up for the trip, until I realized we would not be taking the drive together. She dropped me off with a car transport company and accidentally left a can of hair mousse in my back seat. Hair mousse? In Texas heat? What was she thinking? I know she thought the can would explode, blow out my windows and leave fresh smelling white mousse all over the backseat. I surprised her though by being my reliable self. It did earn me the nickname “Moosie Brucie” from my peers. I never will live that one down. Austin, Texas has been my home the past two years and it’s a little extreme for my black exterior. I am started to fade and rust. The friends she allows to see me have started making comments.

My owner has had some interesting guests ride along. Her sister is always a good one because she is sarcastic with me. I think she secretly adores me though. She has this guy she really likes now too. He sings all the songs I play, so he’s okay in my book. He always tells her to “drive safe” and occasionally carries items to my trunk for her. My backseat has been neglected. She will often throw her purse back there, but the last few people to ride in the back were children. My back doors are a bit hard to open at times, so I think my owner discourages anyone from riding there. Her parents are pretty cool. They drive a Nissan too, my older brother the Murano.

I guess when you get older, louder and start leaking exhaust, it’s time to be traded in. The only owner I ever knew is about ready to say goodbye to me for a newer version. I hope he knows and appreciates what he has in her. She drove me crazy at times, but I kept her safe and warm. What more could a girl want? Maybe I am her superhero, or perhaps she gave me more credit than I had due.

Sincerely,

Bruce”

“The story of my life, I take her home, I drive all night to keep her warm…and time is frozen”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG2piMjhIVY

Just Beyond Reach

“And everyone knows I’m in over my head, over my head”

The lob is one of the fundamental shots in tennis. It is essential in doubles and singles play to be able to place the ball behind your opponent. A good topspin lob will buy you time when on the defensive or be the put away offensive shot you need to cap off a rally.  This tennis passing shot is a high percentage option when you need to get out of a defensive position. A lob can often get you out of trouble against an aggressive net player.  Dependable lobs have the ability to throw an opponent off guard because their height and depth are designed to land beyond their reach. Your opponent will be forced to chase the ball and play at least one more shot. An overhead smash becomes more difficult for an opponent when they are handed a well-executed lob. Though it can be a highly effective shot, the lob is so often underutilized.

From a tennis standpoint, it’s awfully debilitating to be beaten at net by a deep lob to the backcourt. The ball is visible, but just out of my reach. The shot appears attainable until I take that first step and realize it’s beyond being pursued. It reminds me of many of life’s circumstances: the craft of reading a situation without the ability to act.

What is beyond reach in your life right now? What “shots” can you use more often if only they were dependable and you were aggressive enough to pursue them? Are you usually on the defensive or offensive?  I think everyone can call to mind a point in their life where they viewed something as beyond their reach. I wonder if we all under-use our high percentage shots, thinking they will pit us on the defensive. What passing shots are you allowing to pass you by? I have found that what I often perceive as beyond reach is really just an off-guard moment. It is a moment of strategy and setting yourself up for the best possible outcome (the high percentages). Truly nothing worth attaining is beyond the reach of someone who knows what they need to do. If there is something you would like to pursue, you only have to execute the shot and/or reassess your position on the court.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWRISdwHuwY

“I’d rather run the other way than stay and see”

Finishing

We all have our battles to fight. Never forget the people God uses to help you defeat them.

"And when you're tired of fighting, chained by your control..."

I flipped over the rubbery maroon scorecard. One-zero in my favor. The net between us prevented us from getting too close. I knew not to get too close. She knew too. It would hurt too much when she went away. If only nets could really spare us the pain of getting close. The scorecards, with their jumbo white numbers, always seemed to stick together. Like good friends in sports jerseys.

We finished the set. I won. It was the last tennis match she would ever play and it wasn’t even a complete match. Dayle was too tired to continue. Her blond hair, which usually lit up her face, was crumbling thin. But her laugh, even after she lost a match, was something I would never forget. It came from a deep place and bellied out of her with such prettiness and comfort.  

She wore designer sunglasses the last time we spoke. I stood in front of the club admiring her courage. I still saw the troubled light in her eyes through the shaded fashion frames.  I could taste her fear and smell her sorrow.

She was my mentor, and good friend. I tried to emulate her way with people, her persona. I respected her keen judgment and knack for decision-making. She had impeccable instincts, a mother-like quality that captured my pride. At times, I felt as if I was her very daughter.

Nothing prepares you for death. Even when you see it coming and know the shadow of death is lurking, you are pained with shock and sadness.

I scurried to my car after saying goodbye. My pulse ached for a wrist. It yearned for human contact, a warm touch. I needed a hand to hold, to tell me everything was going to be fine. I watched Dayle from a distance because I could no longer stand to be nearer to her than I already had been. She carried a green purse and began to tuck her white hat into it. Dayle folded the hat and her brilliant hands secured it loosely inside the purse. I saw her yawn her last yawn. Watered eyes. Wide open mouth. Smiling ears. My heart knew, somehow sensed the end.

"Your world's not falling apart; it's falling into place."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIZitK6_IMQ
 

You Got It

“I run after you like a fool would do…”

It’s been nearly twenty years since I recall my father going on an overnight business trip. I don’t remember the destination. It could have been Minneapolis, Cincinnati or Kalamazoo. I have postcards and mementos from all three cities. My dad didn’t often go out of town, but when he did my sister and I made his homecoming a welcome one. The memory that stands out most is when we picked him up from dropping off his rental car one year. Our mother, always the creative one, suggested we perform a song for dad on the way home. Her idea was to change the lyrics to Brenton Wood’s “Baby You Got It”—and so the song became, “Daddy You Got It”. I wish I still had the recreated lyrics on hand to share. I know our dad got a kick out of our performance, and I am sure he recalls that memory with a smile. I am also pretty certain my dad still made time to throw around the softball with me upon his return. He was always available like that.

Dad has been supportive and appreciative of all our thoughtful efforts. As the only man in a household of three women, my father is also a patient, good sport. He has shaped me into being tougher and stronger. My dad has taught me to never cut corners, how to fight for what is meaningful and that courage can get me through any obstacle. His words have carried a lot of weight to me throughout the years. It was my father who pointed out how I am braver than I think I am. Every time I’d fall down, he would remind me of that. He still does remind me. Dad was there for us when mom was sick with breast cancer. He was there when I threw my first pitch in a real softball game. He comforted me when my favorite football team lost the Superbowl. Dad dropped me off when I went to the junior prom and first overnight tennis camp. He was there to pick me up from the train station after my first job interview and on my last day of college. Dad hasn’t missed any milestone in my life, though I am told he nearly missed me being born (those hospital cafeterias have a way of distracting him). My dad is more than just a father though. He is a talented photographer, a retired accountant, an astute WWII buff, a great softball coach, a fan of the Yoohoo beverage, an eyewitness to 9/11, degreed in undergraduate psychology, a former paper carrier (just like me) and a man who was the first to tell me I am beautiful. I may be biased as his little girl, but my father is one of the best men I know. Happy Father’s Day to my dad, and to all other fathers who help influence the lives of their children.

“But mama didn’t raise no fool and I should know”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDTFxK-ssnk