So, I have my first tennis match this weekend. I know I’ve only been practicing for a few weeks, but I’m probably not going to get any better before the season ends in three weeks, so it’s now or never.
On Monday, my coach had me and my partner come in to practice and get ready. She and I are on about the same level, which means we’re in trouble, yo. The good thing is that she and I are both pretty easygoing about this whole tennis thing. Neither of us is putting stress on the other. We both agree that it’s just a game, so let’s have fun and do it!
We spent Monday running drills and it was fun, except for the part where I thought I was going to die. Seriously, it was that hot and I quickly realized that my lackadaisical approach to finding proper attire needed to be kicked up a notch. By the time I left there, I was soaking wet and exhausted. Still, I headed straight to the store and bought some shorts. Thunder thighs be damned, I need to stay cool!
We came back on Tuesday for more drills, but were informed that we would be playing a few sets…against some kids. Y’all I had my ass handed to me by a bunch of 14 year olds. Well, one of the girls was 12 and she wasn’t that good. Oh, and she was built like me (read: tig ole bitties). At the age of 12. I asked her what she eats. She said chicken. Regan is now a vegetarian.
At the end of the day, I remarked that I felt guilty for being so bad. I don’t want to be wasting people’s time- my partner, coach or spectators. I was assured that it wasn’t a waste of time. I asked my coach if I was the worst player he’d ever seen. He assured me I was not. He did say I seem to get excited when the ball is coming towards me and I need to play more so that doesn’t happen.
So it looks like I’m playing in a match this Sunday. Did I mention it’s going to be 100 degrees? Pray for me.
Or do a rain dance or something.