So I mentioned on Monday that I watched the French Open on Sunday. What you do not yet know is the role tennis has played in my life over the years.
You see, I come from a family of exceptional tennis players. Exceptionally competitive, that is. Remember the ping pong tournaments? Practice for the courts. Also remember how I mentioned that I do a lot of trash talking in ping pong? Well tennis is a whole ‘nother racket sport entirely, my friends. I don’t even try talking trash, because then you could retort with something like “oh yeah? I bet my baby sister could kick your butt” and you know what, that’s probably an accurate assessment.
I love tennis, but the sport does not come naturally to me. The concept of getting a furry neon ball into a very specific space that is 50 feet away from me and protected by a waist-high barrier, aka “the net” is like asking me to skydive and land on the Empire State Building’s observation deck. Depending on how the wind’s blowing- I’m just never going to hit it. If possible, I like to make sure I have two courts side by side to use, because the person playing against me will probably need to run onto the adjoining court in order to return my shot. I mean, you don’t have to play the “out” balls if you don’t want to, but we’re not going to have many rallies if you insist on being a stickler like that.
Growing up, every Thanksgiving and every Mothers Day weekend we would play a family game of tennis. I am not kidding when I say they had to draw straws to decide who got stuck with me on their team.
Like, just to paint you a mental picture here:
My mom- her net game is famous, her victory dance is legendary.
My dad- a year round tennis/paddle tennis player.
My brother- natural athlete, can pick up a piece of athletic equipment for a sport he’s never played before and dominate.
My sister- at 12 she was playing against boys on the varsity team at my high school.
Of course we’d just play for bragging rights, but bragging rights are a big thing in my family. I still haven’t lived down the paddle tournament of ’01 when my hands were too cold to hold the racket properly, which led to a loss of epic proportions for Team Charlotte. Using cold hands as an excuse around my fam is the equivalent of being the 1953 armistice in the eyes of North Korea. It’s invalid.
If you are cold, it simply means you’re not running around the court fast enough. Or so my mom says.
So on my side of the court there’s usually a lot of this:
Meanwhile on the other side of the net, there’s this:
And occasionally this:
Therefore, I have nothing but total awe and respect for the pro tennis players of the world. It is very hard to do what they do. Unfortunately for all the regular tennis players, I LOVE to play. So you might meet me on a court one day. If that’s the case, I look forward to meting your baby sister.
How do you feel about tennis- yay or nay? Are you good?
Whats your favorite racket sport?
Random question- do you watch the Voice? Did you watch last night?? (I’m so psyched with the results!)