Playing Tennis

let me just preface this entry with this disclaimer: I cannot play tennis. I don't consider myself good at any one sport. My hand-eye coordination is not terrible, and as a dancer, neither is the rest of my coordination, but i will just say that of all the sports in existence, tennis is the one that kicks my butt the most and makes me feel the least coordinated. (Maybe we could throw sumo wrestling in there as well.) So, why do i ever pick up a racket? Why do I ever submit myself voluntarily to the humiliation of total lack of control? And why on earth do I find it, well, kind of fun? I'll tell you why. One word: boys. Not my boys. My sisters' boys. Ten years ago, I was talked into playing tennis with Amanda under the pretense of actually playing tennis with my sister. "Wanna come play tennis with me?" she would ask in her most winning way. Yeah! I did. Why not? So we went. We started trying to hit a few volleys. I don't really remember if we were successful or not, but I do remember having fun, until... "Wait!" she says in hushed tones. "Curtis is coming home!" she stage whispers as she peers breathlessly through the chain-link fence toward the Ashton home. Indeed, Curtis was coming home, and the match ended then and there. If my memory doesn't fail, i went on several of these expeditions with Amanda to innocently "stalk" Curtis under the, shall we way, weak pretense of playing tennis, but I doubt if Curt was ever aware of who was playing tennis at the park across the street. Incidentally, i never got any better at tennis. And I never played again.

Fast forward ten years. Susannah. Different sister. She's got a date with a guy she's actually interested in and he's interested back. The date? A tennis match. Sue knows how to play tennis maybe a fraction of a percentage better than I do. No...I'll give her more credit than that. She took lessons one summer, and learned a few basics. But she is basically as out-of-practice as I am. "Pear!" she says breathlessly, "I have to practice. Here's a racket. Get in the car. Let's go before it gets totally dark." Okay? I go. The park is like thirty seconds away, but it is already probably too dark by the time we arrive. We start out anyway. I congratulate myself that I can even hit the ball some of the time--even though they fly pell mell in every direction. And I'm not necessarily blaming the dark for this, though it certainly didn't help. In the process of this game, i make two disturbing discoveries a)I play tennis a little worse than I did at thirteen, in spite of my prowess at Wii tennis, and b)I still like it in spite of my buffoonery on the court. In other words, I still can't play, and i still don't care. It is something that I am so bad at, I don't even feel self-conscious, because I expect nothing of myself. I suck. So what? Let the game begin!

And I will just add a small epilogue here. in spite of my so-called "skill" on the court, my first venture with tennis and sisters and boys proved to be a flying success. Amanda married Curtis, and now has two kids. A match made in heaven, or at least...Cherry Hill Park! (pun intended. he he.) Now, Sue? Don't let me down. I do it all for you!