Taking Weekend Tennis Seriously

Somebody made this delightful video that summarizes everything I’ve ever thought about women’s recreational tennis in two and a half minutes.

Because of this video, there’s really no reason for me to keep writing. Oh, well.

The last time I was this stressed co-captaining a tennis team, that team ended up winning Sectionals. I guess that’s something to try to remember as I’m being pelted by the tennis gods as they play their version of dodgeball with me. In this game, I don’t get eliminated once I’ve been hit; I just keep getting hit. It hurts.

It is the second/third week of USTA, and I’ve discovered a truth about the player/captain relationship that I’m sure veteran captains already know: I dread hearing from any of my players. I don’t want to see a text from any of them on my cell; I don’t want to see an incoming call from any of them on my phone; and I don’t want to see an email from any of them in my inbox. In a perfect world, I would simply send out the line-up to the team, crawl back into bed, and sleep out the week till I had to see the scheduled players on Match Day.

I better see them all accounted for on Match Day. On time. Ooh, maybe even early. Wait. No. We’re still just working on being on time. Baby steps.

When I see I’m being contacted by one of my players, my heart drops a little. Something is wrong. When your players tell you something, it is never good news. It is never, “Hey, I set up a practice doubles match all by myself. I partnered up with [insert teammate’s name here who is a) not already betrothed to someone else and/or b) someone you, Captain, had already thought about pairing up with me], and we played against Players #1 and #2 that you, Captain, consider really good. We beat them 6-0, 6-1. They won a game when I told [insert teammate’s name here] that I didn’t think she could get a ball in using her opposite hand, and then that turned into both of us playing with our other hands and…”

It is never, “Hey, the best player on our flight’s hardest team that we’re about to play just won the lottery, and she and her family are going to live the rest of their lives in Europe. Their flight leaves in an hour.”

It is never, “Hey, I want to challenge our best singles player to a tennis duel because I’ve been taking private lessons multiple times a week for the past six months, and I want to prove to you that I can be your number 1 singles player so you can count on me to be a sure win every week. I’ll beat our best singles player 0 and 0, and she won’t even get a racquet on most of my balls. I love singles!!”

It is never one of those things.

It is never, ever one of those things.

I don’t know which one would make me cry more tears of happiness at. They would all be glorious.

When players have something to say to the captain, it is always something that causes the captain more work. I already think about weekend warrior tennis every other second. My players make me think about weekend warrior tennis every second. Do you know how long it takes to look up the five year playing history of each player on the upcoming opponent’s roster? It takes even longer when I have to stop down to address whatever latest fire has been brought to my attention.

“Really? I had no idea the team we’re about to play was the toughest one in our flight.”

“This week’s match-up is the biggest of the season, huh? Ya don’t say…”

“You’re no longer available for any of the matches I had you penned in for? Well, are you able to play the matches I didn’t have you penned…oh, you can’t play those either?”

“What do you mean you’re joining the circus?”

“Wait, I’m sorry. Please tell me again how you got injured walking down the stairs of your mansion.”

“You want to play with whom? [Insert teammate’s name here], who just so happens to be one of the best players on our team?”

“What’s this? A line-up proposal? How thoughtful of you! Yes, that would indeed be a fantastic line-up. It would be only a “nice” line-up if you weren’t in it, but nope, there’s your name. Good call there.”

Maybe captains didn’t start out crazy. Maybe they were normal, innocent people who were driven crazy by their players. And then they can’t go back to normalcy, and they have to keep captaining. Because now they need the crazy.

If that theory’s true, then I definitely need to get out of here before I’m swallowed up by the craziness of weekend warrior tennis and…whoa. What do you mean you think “maybe captains didn’t start out crazy” may not apply to me?

~ Christy Vutam