Keep Swinging
I was 15, at my first junior tournament after having just convinced my parents to let me drop out of school to pursue a professional tennis career.
“Pretty nice draw until the quarters, Luke,” one of my friends said. “You should breeze by the first guy. He’s just a high school player.”
I lost in straight sets.
My coach found me sulking in the VW bus after the match. If there’d been somebody serving spicy margaritas, I would’ve knocked back five.
“Did you think you were just going to train hard for a few months and come win the tournament?”
“I’m quitting,” I said.
He started laughing. “Already?”
“That guy was so bad. He moon balled everything.”
“You’re going to have to lose a lot if you want to get better, Luke.”
My oldest daughters play tennis twice a week at the community courts here in Kona. A Hawaiian uncle recruited a bunch of local pros and started a homegrown kids program at no cost. I help out on Thursdays.
Yesterday was the last practice before summer lets out.
Thirty sweaty kids stared at Costco pizzas and sliced watermelon behind the courts while the uncle asked, “I want to know, children, what’s the most important thing about tennis?”
Nobody said anything.
“Pay attention,” the uncle barked.
“Moving your feet?” A little boy shouted.
“Hitting it fast!”
“The serve!”
“Practicing!”
The big Kahuna took off his sunglasses, bent down, and looked every kid in the eye. “You’re going to lose more than you win in your life. But that’s the only way you’ll get better. You have to keep swinging. That’s what tennis teaches you to do.”
His eyes found the coaches. “That’s the most important thing, isn’t it, coaches?”
Nodding, smiling, “That’s right,” I said, thinking about that kid in the VW bus almost thirty years ago.
I’m still losing matches I think I should win, but there’s no sense in quitting now - especially since for the most part I’m keeping the spicy marg count right around two.
