Taking Weekend Tennis Seriously

I’ve got to start making a practice of clearing out the rest of my day after a tennis match.

If history holds, I will lose the match and then I am pretty much useless as a productive member of society for that day. I will spend what’s left of my waking seconds to do everything I can to cleanse myself of the stink of inadequacy off of me be it texting everyone in my little black tennis book for a pick-up match (by the way, here’s a tip: you should start off your text to me when you need a last second 4^th with “Hey, Christy, did you lose today? Do you want to play tennis right now?”) and/or hitting the ball machine.

I hit a lot of ball machine. I hit the ball machine more than you play tennis, fellow adult recreational tennis player. That’s just a fact.

That’s how much I lose at tennis.

Clearly, the ball machine is not helping you, Christy, um…

Tennis frustrates the bonanza out of me. Losing sucks. And yet, when I lose, all I want to do is more tennis. And I will tennis until I get right whatever the latest stroke is that cost me this particular match. Or until the highly annoyed tennis pro shop people kick me out of the facility.

The people at the tennis pro shops I frequent know my voice, dear reader. They all recognize my voice on the phone. I can’t drop fake names on reservations because they’ve already jotted my name down as soon as I say hello (I can usually make out the faint whispers of a slightly exasperated sigh on the other line after my cheery “Hi!”). Although I would concede I may have used the worst possible alias that one time I tried it.

“And what’s your last name, Jessica?

“Rabbit?”

“Is this Christy?!?”

I should get them something. I need to do something to thank them for my strolling in an hour before closing time (I work full-time…believe it or not…and I play tennis around work) and them having to wait for me as I try to squeeze in just one more round on the ball machine while they’re trying to leave for the comforts of their homes after a long day of work waiting on you other people.

So what I’m saying is I blame you other people for pecking away at their good humor levels until they’re just de-lighted to see me and my distinct brand of rough-around-the-edges charm capping off their day.

You know who’s generally not around an hour before closing time? Available tennis coaches. And thank goodness.

Here’s another tip: if you’re a teaching pro in my area who’s looking for more work, you should start stalking me and just happen to be around when I’m playing tennis. And then pounce on the easiest sell job after I lose.

You could say anything. You could say I should put broccoli stalks under my pillow when I sleep to add power to my groundstrokes, and I will nod solemnly and take that to heart. I would immediately go buy every bag of broccoli at the nearest store. And tomatoes, too, just in case.

You could casually mention you have an hour to kill right then and there and I would personally roll out your basket of tennis balls onto the court before you’d even finish your sentence. You could charge me any amount for that lesson and even tell me ahead of time the three-figure price, and I would still go through with the private. I wouldn’t pay that amount under any other circumstances when I’m of sound mind, but right now…

Complete form overhaul you say? Done. I will absolutely change my technique at the drop of a loss. Perfectly normal, perfectly solid logic right there. I think this is what? My third edition of my forehand for the year?

I need to stop taking my credit card with me on tennis days.

I should find another hobby. Anything else. Anything else has to be healthier – emotionally, mentally, physically, financially – for me than this.

Sometimes I wonder if I tennis so much so I can have the best excuse for not playing tennis when my body inevitably breaks down. It’s definitely bending right now, but as long as it’s not broken, I can’t say no to tennis.

In fact, that’s one of the reasons why I hit the ball machine an hour before closing time – to save me from myself. I could hit the ball machine for hours. I don’t love tennis. I’m just obsessed with getting better. Just so we’re clear and all.

Sometimes I’ll leave the ball machine session hopeful about my game and I’ll look forward to my next match to try out these new and improved strokes of mine…

And then I’ll lose. And the cycle starts all over again.

Yep. This is healthy. I’m so glad I have tennis in my life.

What’s that? Why, yes. Yes, I did play poorly and lose very recently. How’d you know?