Taking Weekend Tennis Seriously

If you haven’t signed up, yet, for the USTA team you told the captain or the co-captain you would join this spring/summer (real USTA is only a couple of months away; YES!), you are making your captain nervous. Yes, the league starts in April for men and in May for women and mixed. Yes, there’s no deadline to sign up. But dear goodness in Heaven, what if someone swoops in, whispers sweet nothings in your ear, and steals you away? WHAT IF THAT HAPPENS?!

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The time has come to talk about the warm-up. The tennis warm-up (called a “knock-up” in Great Britain, #nowyaknow) is the short, polite hitting back and forth from player to player before the start of matches or lessons in order to, you know, warm up one’s muscles. It generally begins with each player a few feet away from the net bopping the ball to each other. Here are the attitudes of the various USTA levels towards this supposedly polite exchange.*

*I don’t say this often, and I’m not going to put this disclaimer before every post so listen up: I am clearly exaggerating throughout this post. And this blog. And yet not exaggerating all at the same time. Welcome to my blog. Thank you for reading!

3.0s – Just happy to be playing. Hoping to make contact with the ball (that feeling doesn’t go away when you’re a 4.0, by the way). Thrilled as long as the ball goes over the net and inside the lines.

3.5s – Can make solid contact with the ball. Sorta. Super, super excited that they can routinely make contact. Now trying out this power thing they’ve heard so much about.

4.0s – Can hit the ball solidly with power. Feel like they must wail on everything with all their might. It’s like they’ve discovered fire, and now they’re setting ablaze everything in sight with this crazy glint in their eyes.

4.5s – Control. So much awesome, beautiful, tranquil control. Can get nearly any ball wildly hit at them back and almost perfectly teed up for their hitting partner.

5.0s – Please. Like I have any idea how 5.0s warm up. I imagine it would be just heavenly though. With angels singing.

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This is a time capsule post, in which a year or two or five or ten years from now, I’ll look back at this person, shake my head side to side slowly with a wry grin and a knowing look on my face, and chuckle out, “Oh, honey.” Like you are about to.

Someday I’m going to be a more understanding person. I’m sincerely working on that. But before I’m lobotomized by society and I’ve stopped being the wildly entertaining person that I am right now, I’ll keep churning out these simply delightful posts in the meantime. I hope that’s okay with everyone.

Now I relate to this movie.

I don’t look forward to being older.

I don’t look forward to not playing tennis because it’s below 50 degrees. Because there’s such a thing as too. cold.

I don’t look forward to not playing at certain times because it’s too early, too hot, or too late.

I don’t look forward to not playing because it’s too windy.

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To kick off one of my non-USTA metropolitan leagues (TCD), here’s a post dedicated to that thing near and dear to the heart of so many of its players and teams: Team Uniforms.

This was supposed to be a real post with full paragraphs and a beginning, middle, and end. And then I started writing.

• Do you know how the big athletic apparel corporations come up with each season’s new outfits? They have a bet on which combination of clashing colors will sell the most.

“These two colors are so mismatched that the public will definitely be onto us this time.”

“Nah. If you put our logo on it and feature it in a glossy magazine, they will buy it.”

“Heeheehee.”

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My Tri-Level team played Sectionals (where the various winners at the city level throughout the state/USTA section compete against each other) this past weekend. Tri-Level is a team tennis event in which three different rated lines of doubles is played for each team match. My team played in the 3.0/3.5/4.0 Tri-Level league.

My team shouldn’t have even been in the Sectionals tournament, but my city got the wild card entry, and the second place team couldn’t go. It fell to us as the 3^rdplace team (we had a couple of injuries that weekend so getting another chance to prove ourselves would have been amazing). We just had the minimum for the 3.5 and 3.0 lines (two players on each line) to even agree to go to Sectionals in the first place. I’m very thankful those gals were able to get off 401K-compensated work (while the domestic engineers on our team couldn’t get off work…think about it…) to drive 230+ miles and play the two Friday matches as well as playing all the matches over the weekend without incident.

You know who couldn’t get off 401K-compensated work (yes, this will be a thing now) on Friday? Me (which was fine because the team’s best 4.0 doubles team played and had to go three sets in both matches to win. They were down match point each time. Wowza). Instead, my right calf and I carried on conversations all day Friday. I kept asking it if it was going to cramp up on me in my match on Saturday. It kept saying, “Um, maybe.” That’s how my cramps generally start: I can feel my right calf thinking about it.

However, driving four hours right before playing is one way of stopping your right calf from thinking.

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• A tennis class of adult beginners is learning how to hit forehands on the adjacent court. Every other word out of the teaching pro is “Excellent!”, “Good!”, or “That was beautiful!” I’m having to duck as the class’s balls come raining down on my side of the fence. If the teaching pro’s goal was to drum up more business for herself, then she’s doing a stupendous job because if she thinks that was beautiful, then I can’t wait to hear what she has to say about my shots. Mine actually go over the net now. On the same court even. I would definitely pay to have a teaching pro tell me how awesome my strokes are for once.

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Recruiting for my weekend and weekday tennis teams is fun. So much fun.

It really is, actually. I haven’t hid behind any swing sets and scouted players, yet, but that’s just because swing sets aren’t included in most playgrounds these days. Plus, I can’t go to every tennis facility in my surrounding cities, watch people play, and ask them to join my teams. That would be crazy. I mean come on now; I work full-time.

It’s also because I haven’t played any meaningful matches with strangers lately. Nothing’s in season for me. Next week, however, I’ve got several real matches I’m partaking in. It’s going to be all I can do to keep my mind focused on the actual match at hand. All I’ll want to do is look around and ask people about playing on my teams.

I’m kidding. All I want to do is beat you in tennis. And then I’ll shake your hand limply and flash a fake smile after I lose.

Such a silly game.

One of the fun things about recruiting is having an excuse to create spreadsheets. Spreadsheets! You know how much I love me some spreadsheets. I’ve got tabs for who’s on my teams, who I’m waiting on responses from, and who has said no. The last tab has the most number of names.

The part I enjoy the most throughout this process is the ridiculous feeling I get that I sorta understand how general managers of sports teams feel. The GMs. Of professional sports teams. I feel them. My people. Yo!

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Telling people I’m funnier than the captain they plan on playing for hasn’t been a strong selling point for why they should play on my teams. It’s kinda like when I stressed free cookies when I was in charge of PR/marketing for my high school’s book club.

My sister and I were discussing playing tennis together over the weekend. She took lessons along with my brother and me when we were in elementary school but didn’t do much more than that (while my brother went on to be the number one junior in the state and I…I could hit the ball over the net. Sometimes it landed inside the fence. It being the racquet). I think it would be super for her to pick up the sport so she can be active, get out of the house, and begin her journey into the ultra-competitive, highly political, incredibly frustrating world of weekend adult tennis. Just super.

I think it would be so super that I suggested that after I taught her how to hit the ball (blind leading the…), maybe we could play doubles together in the lowest level league at our local public tennis facility.

This is how that conversation went down, verbatim:

Sister: “Ok, but you just need to be prepared to lose.”

Beat.

Sister: “But, you lose, anyway, right? Isn’t that what you always talk about: losing?”

Sigh. Yes. Yes, it is.

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A common complaint in weekend adult team tennis is being paired up with a partner whom you’ve never played with before. I, personally, think that is a silly complaint because if both of you would just play well (heck, even if only one of y’all would play well), it probably wouldn’t be a problem. If you and your new partner played fundamentally sound doubles and high percentage tennis, you would probably still win the match despite not being Facebook friends.

But that in itself is a silly argument to make because “playing well” and “weekend adult tennis” are generally mutually exclusive concepts.

And if there wasn’t complaining in weekend adult tennis, why would we even play?

So teams/captains will try to pair up players during practices before match days in order to appease their own slightly unsettled minds but more importantly to tame the even more volatile minds of the head cases they’re forced to put in their lineups. Of all the complaints made about the captain after a loss either to her face and/or behind her back (a reminder: all teams are dysfunctional; there is always one player not happy about something), she’s hoping to nip this one in the bud.

Unless, of course, you played with this particular person only once before match day. Unbelievable! Inexcusable! Ridiculous captaining! GAH.

All joking aside, I understand this psychological need to have played with your partner once/a few times before a real match. You know how dogs sniff each other’s butts as a way to feel each other out? It’s just like that.

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I wish with all my heart that my superpower wasn’t making spreadsheets.

So I tried to recruit players to my USTA spring team yesterday. No, I’m not the captain. I’ve been rebuffed from more than half of them, and I’ll probably be receiving the rest of the bad news by the time this post is published.

The general reason for being unable to join my team is that they’re already on a team for the upcoming season. One player was asked three weeks ago. I met her four weeks ago. I have so much to learn.

Real USTA (spring USTA) starts in May. That is a little over three months away. Why didn’t anyone tell me open season started a while back?!

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