A Tennis Memoir

The ball comes rushing towards me. For a second, my body stops as my mind believes that the ball will hit the net. Heck, he’s hit the last five into the net, why not this one?

Then, I. feel it. The rush of adrenaline courses through my body as I rush to meet the ball, a perfect swing requires perfect timing, placement, and coordination; things that only come with years of practice. My leg muscles are tiring now. So are my arms. After 10 volleys cross court, yours would too. But after a bit of resistance, they get me to the ball, just in time to hit it right back over the net back to Chris.

You can tell when you’ve hit a good tennis swing. The racquet slowly comes up from behind you and makes that beautiful “whap!” sound that many try to achieve, but few ever master. A perfect rally between two players is an even harder feat to accomplish, but trying to accomplish such a feat is just one of the challenges and joys of playing tennis.

Tennis has always been a hobby of mine and one of those few things that I just never got around to doing much of in high school. But here at the College, it’s sort of a second hobby that I’ve picked up over the days.

It’s also one of those sports that doesn’t require a lot of people or a lot of investment of time or money to learn how to play recreationally. And when you live across the street from four tennis courts with operational night lights until midnight, well, I guess that just makes it a no-brainer.

If you ever come to the College, whether you decide to take up tennis, ultimate Frisbee, or just the simple running of the treadmill every now and then, remember to follow the age-old saying and take a friend.

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. As far as tennis level goes, Chris is by far probably one of the better matches for me at the College. We both have our strengths and weaknesses, but those are areas that we help each other on. And it just so happens that each of our tennis skill also increases as an added bonus.

Today’s no different. Chris is in great shape and form. Every serve he’s hit today has been either slightly out or dead on, and the worst part about it is, I can’t even touch it. If we were playing a tournament match, he’d have me beat.

Whap! Another hit and another net ball. That’s the only consolation I get out on these courts. Chris is perfect except for his ground strokes which tend to go into the net or roughly out. But that’s where I come in to lend a helping hand.