Tennis anyone....anyone....Bueller?

The tennis obsession started about 6 years ago after becoming so mind-numbingly bored of all things being passed off as women's fitness. 
I could not take another mundane class of step aerobics, Pilate's, or jazz-my-thighs.  I heard a friend talking about tennis and thought:  if she can do it, surely, I can too.  


I decided to take a few lessons, and went with the cheap group kind.  There were about 8 of us, ranging in age from 25 to 50.  I was 34, at the time, and feeling pretty good about being able to follow the simple instructions from the tennis pro.   


My first return was a high pop fly, over the fence.  I heard a few muffled snickers.  You know, the type where people feel so bad for you that they try with all their might to hold in the spontaneous laughter, but can't.  Then, the Pro asked, "Have you really never played...at all?"  All balls fell to the ground and everyone stared at me.  Apparently, in Plano, Texas the idea that someone had NEVER picked up a tennis racket before seemed incomprehensible.  I tried to explain that I grew up in a tiny town in Oklahoma and the one court in town was where we rode our bikes and roller skates.  I don't think it even had a net on it.  They honestly looked dumbfounded.  The rest of the lesson was equally embarrassing, to the point that every person had a desire to make me their little project and help me out with tips:


           1.  Hold the racket like you're shaking hands with it
           2.  Keep your eye on the ball
           3.  Don't scream like that, ever again


I still remember driving home and contemplating not showing up for the next lesson.  I talked myself into going, mainly for spite:  I'll show these snobby tennis-ites that I will not be deterred.  I know I will be chosen last when we go into the "pick a partner" portion, but I am not going to quit....unless, the Pro pulls me aside and has the "I'm sorry, but for safety reasons, you may not come back" talk.  


I guess I have my own stubbornness to thank for being able to enjoy the game today.  I am still learning, but have improved dramatically.  I had a frienemy, who grew up in private school, playing tennis of course, who once told me that I will peak before I hit 40, and be unable to continue to improve.  I think this ignorant statement helped me to stick with it and I would love to play him again, any time, any place.  Because improvement for me has little to do with age, and a lot to do with a relentless acceptance of embarrassment, a twinge of spite, and a refusal to ever go back to Jazz-My-Thighs.


I love that Jonathan is now officially hooked as well, and he watches tennis on a regular basis.  Playing him is like playing a giant game of ping-pong, due to his ability to put crazy spin on the ball.  He also was blessed with a wicked drop shot, just something that came to him one day.  His natural athleticism is extremely annoying and I lose 90% of the time we play.  But, when I do pull out a win (like when he tries to play on a sprained ankle or when his blood sugar is really low), it is sweet.  Had to actually go to a tie-break the last time we played, and the universe, my friends, was gracious .  I am still glowing from the glory which surrounded me.