Campus Showdown at MSU? A must-do for any player serious about their game.
I attended one of many campus showdowns run by colleges to provide the community and local juniors access to their programs and provide their own players with an opportunity for competition during the off-season.
I chose to do the MSU campus showdown because of the proximity to home and because it was listed as a coed event. I thought I would get to watch some really exciting men's tennis when I wasn't on court. So I was surprised to find that a coed event meant that guys were in the draw with the women. (A little intimidating at first, but as the day went on, the person on the other side of the net was just any other competitor.)
Play started at 8 am Sunday morning. We were told to check in 30 minutes prior to the start of the round-robin tournament. I convinced my friend, Sue, to sign up for the tournament. So we spent fifteen nervous minutes warming up. At least, I was nervous. I sent routine balls flying on the courts adjacent to us, surely annoying the college players on either side of us who never seemed to miss a ball. There was a certain quiet rhythm to the early morning warm-up around us and I was painfully aware that I was disrupting that beat.
But warm-up is not about working kinks out of the strokes. It's about getting the body moving, waking the blood flow.
My first match was against a very nice 18 year old girl from a small area near Lansing. She was a very good player with consistent strokes. She beat me 2-6. (Each match in the campus showdown was a one-setter, the first to 6, with a tie-breaker at 5-5 instead of 6-6.)
I knew that I would probably be outmatched in all of my matches, but I didn't want to lose any match without at least getting one game. I also didn't want to play a match where the entire contest was me playing at the mercy of my opponent. I wanted to play my game. Even though I thought my first opponent was much better than I was, I didn't feel like I played my best game. I am not one to make excuses, but knowing your tendencies is very important in sports and I TEND to not be a morning competitor! It takes me a while to physically wake up and even when I am moving, there TENDS to be lag time before my brain joins my body at the breakfast table.
I made dumb mistakes; hitting a shallow ball to the girl's forehand so I could watch her rip winners by me. Instead of mixing up my shots, something that has made me an effective player this summer, I pounded the ball with this girl. Although I hit hard, if I continue to do it, it often lets my opponents fall into a comfortable rhythm. I should have mixed it up, but in a match as short as these were, I realized this too late.
My second match was against one of the MSU women's tennis team members. She was an excellent player who was dismissing her opponents in very short patches of time. I'd watched her play a few minutes of her first match, witnessing return winners, services aces and two ball rallies that ended in her winning the point. So before I took the court, I inhaled and then exhaled and reminded myself of my goal, don't get blown away.
It took her all of eleven minutes to get a 5-0 lead on me. And as I picked up the balls to serve the sixth game, I began to rethink the validity of having a game plan. I took a moment to sort out what was happening. Usually in a match at this point, the brain tells you that you have another set to sort it out, but I was running out of time.
I was being rushed. I was allowing her to use my pace to kill my swiftly. And, "not losing horribly" is not a game plan.
So, Plan B
Take pace off of the ball.
I hit with Sue a lot and albeit sarcastically, she often says to me, "When all else fails, here comes the moonball." Hitting with topspin is something that I do fairly well and even though I've come to embrace my style of play, in match situations, I find myself shying away from it.
At any cost, I resorted to hitting the moonball, high loopy shots that landed deep in her court and prevented her from ripping winners from such a pushed-back position. I won a game. In the next game, I did the same thing, a little tougher with her serving, dictating the start of play, but I managed to hang on for another game. Again I lost the set 2-6, but played better and entered my third match with renewed confidence.
I won my third match 6-2, but dictated play from the start. I was in control. My mind had finally awaken and joined my body at the party!
The rest of the day was a mix of quick losses, including one to a man in the draw who had at least a foot on me in height. He hit down on the ball and although I did manage to get one game, it was while feeling like I was holding onto a defective life jacket in a hurricane! He aced me four times in two quick games, aces that I barely saw come over the net and only heard hit the tarp behind me.
But the eight hours of tennis was fun and exhausting. And I was inspired to play better, to compete more fiercely and to return next year.
The rest of the year's schedule includes very focused practices and intense strength and conditioning training.
Stay tuned,
KS
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Campus Match Play
The next two weeks for me are going to be spent fine tuning my game for campus match play. Campus match play was designed to expose college-bound juniors to college tennis. The format is simple; four or five hours of round-robin style play with the members of the college team. A lot of colleges participate as a way of giving their team a chance for competition during the NCAA off-season within the rules of permitted play for student-athletes. The cost is usually very low and although the day was designed for juniors, anyone can participate.
More information can be found at the following link:
www.itatennis.com/events/campus_match_play.htm
So, I am planning to hit the colleges in the Midwest. First, stop, Michigan State University.
My primary goal is to fix the problem I have with slow starts. I've mentioned in earlier posts how I tend to fall behind in a set early. I've had a lot of suggestions to fix this, including focusing more during the warm-up and visualization techniques.
These campus match play is a no-stress, not-for-points competition. Without the pressure of having something to gain by winning, I hope I can concentrate on competing every round.
On a more mundane note, I've been playing a ton of doubles and am feeling a little more confident in my serve and volley game. I'm still attending the Saturday morning clinic at Franklin, which is a ton of fun. Its so hard, but I am hanging in there and no longer feeling like I am the "weakest" one in the group or that I can't hold my own. Yesterday was such a warm November day. A friend and I actually spent about five hours outside playing tennis, breaking only for a nap and a meal.
This Friday, members of my mixed doubles team, which made it to sectionals are driving down to Ohio to play the Nationals-bound team, whom we lost to in the final match, 1 court to 2. Its an evening of tennis and fun, giving them some competition before they leave for Las Vegas and allowing them to show off their new indoor tennis facility in Perrysburgh, OH.
I am looking forward to that and will let everyone know how it went.
Stay tuned,
KS.
More information can be found at the following link:
www.itatennis.com/events/campus_match_play.htm
So, I am planning to hit the colleges in the Midwest. First, stop, Michigan State University.
My primary goal is to fix the problem I have with slow starts. I've mentioned in earlier posts how I tend to fall behind in a set early. I've had a lot of suggestions to fix this, including focusing more during the warm-up and visualization techniques.
These campus match play is a no-stress, not-for-points competition. Without the pressure of having something to gain by winning, I hope I can concentrate on competing every round.
On a more mundane note, I've been playing a ton of doubles and am feeling a little more confident in my serve and volley game. I'm still attending the Saturday morning clinic at Franklin, which is a ton of fun. Its so hard, but I am hanging in there and no longer feeling like I am the "weakest" one in the group or that I can't hold my own. Yesterday was such a warm November day. A friend and I actually spent about five hours outside playing tennis, breaking only for a nap and a meal.
This Friday, members of my mixed doubles team, which made it to sectionals are driving down to Ohio to play the Nationals-bound team, whom we lost to in the final match, 1 court to 2. Its an evening of tennis and fun, giving them some competition before they leave for Las Vegas and allowing them to show off their new indoor tennis facility in Perrysburgh, OH.
I am looking forward to that and will let everyone know how it went.
Stay tuned,
KS.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Midwest Indoor Championship
And the winner of the 2009 Midwest Indoor Championship in the women's open singles division is...
Well, not me.
Was that anti-climatic?
Upon reflecting on my performance at the McFetridge Open in Chicago a couple of weeks ago, I decided that my perfunctory slow starts was something I needed to address, yet my first match of the Midwest Indoor Open, a single elimination tournament, I found myself down 0-4 rather quickly.
I rallied back, slowing the points down and focusing more on my game plan rather than obsessing about how this girl was pummelling shots to my backhand. I love my backhand. My forehand is a huge weapon, wild at times, but when I am able to control it, it can be lethal and usually instills a fear in my opponent. Deception. My backhand, though not as powerful, is very consistent and I love when opponents play to it. But for some reason, I was not able to remember this on Saturday as I began the match. I rushed points. I attempted drop shots two ball strikes into the rally. Though my opponent was about six feet tall, I invited her into the net with mediocre shots and then offered her high floaters that she was able to put away with ease. I respectably loss the first set 5-7 and then proceeded to repeat the same pattern in the second set with an identical result.
So out of the tournament an hour and a half after I entered the Orchard Hills Swim and Sports Club, I was given the opportunity to play a match for fun as I waited for the start of the doubles draw. Without the pressure of accumulating points I intended to work on things that my coaches have been incessantly trying to drill into my head; following short balls into the net, working the point, driving the ball instead of moon-balling it all the time. But, again, twenty minutes into the match, I had already lost the first set 1-6. The match went the distance, ending in a third set tie-breaker and as proud as I am for battling back with nothing on the line except my belief in my game, I am so annoyed at the slow start.
Something to work on for the future.
The best thing about the tournament for me was seeing my best friend, Sue, a woman who loves the sport more than anyone else I know, tackle and take down college players half her age as she steamrolled into the final match. As I sat, watching, I overheard supporters of Sue's opponent, speculating about her age, wondering where she was from and how she was able to take down player after player.
I'd watched Sue play all summer on our USTA league teams and yet, I had never seen her play so well, so confident. Instead of the backboard that she sometimes is, she was the aggressor. She carefully constructed traps for her opponents, lulling them into hitting shots she wanted. Time and time, they fell for her traps. After the fourth straight time of playing into Sue's traps, her semi-final opponent stared at the sideline long after a point was over, unable to believe that Sue had done it to her again.
I watched her rally back from being down 1-6 in the first set. I watched her overcome four double faults in the second set tie-breaker. And I watched her shaky start in the third.
In the finals match, Sue faced the opponent I'd lost to in my semi-final match. Again it took three sets, but when it was over and Sue was handed her trophy, I never felt prouder.
I try to take away something from every match, won or lost, played or watched. I try to note things I need to work on, or emulate play that I've seen.
This time, the post tournament goal was easy to recognize.
I want to be like Sue.
KS
Well, not me.
Was that anti-climatic?
Upon reflecting on my performance at the McFetridge Open in Chicago a couple of weeks ago, I decided that my perfunctory slow starts was something I needed to address, yet my first match of the Midwest Indoor Open, a single elimination tournament, I found myself down 0-4 rather quickly.
I rallied back, slowing the points down and focusing more on my game plan rather than obsessing about how this girl was pummelling shots to my backhand. I love my backhand. My forehand is a huge weapon, wild at times, but when I am able to control it, it can be lethal and usually instills a fear in my opponent. Deception. My backhand, though not as powerful, is very consistent and I love when opponents play to it. But for some reason, I was not able to remember this on Saturday as I began the match. I rushed points. I attempted drop shots two ball strikes into the rally. Though my opponent was about six feet tall, I invited her into the net with mediocre shots and then offered her high floaters that she was able to put away with ease. I respectably loss the first set 5-7 and then proceeded to repeat the same pattern in the second set with an identical result.
So out of the tournament an hour and a half after I entered the Orchard Hills Swim and Sports Club, I was given the opportunity to play a match for fun as I waited for the start of the doubles draw. Without the pressure of accumulating points I intended to work on things that my coaches have been incessantly trying to drill into my head; following short balls into the net, working the point, driving the ball instead of moon-balling it all the time. But, again, twenty minutes into the match, I had already lost the first set 1-6. The match went the distance, ending in a third set tie-breaker and as proud as I am for battling back with nothing on the line except my belief in my game, I am so annoyed at the slow start.
Something to work on for the future.
The best thing about the tournament for me was seeing my best friend, Sue, a woman who loves the sport more than anyone else I know, tackle and take down college players half her age as she steamrolled into the final match. As I sat, watching, I overheard supporters of Sue's opponent, speculating about her age, wondering where she was from and how she was able to take down player after player.
I'd watched Sue play all summer on our USTA league teams and yet, I had never seen her play so well, so confident. Instead of the backboard that she sometimes is, she was the aggressor. She carefully constructed traps for her opponents, lulling them into hitting shots she wanted. Time and time, they fell for her traps. After the fourth straight time of playing into Sue's traps, her semi-final opponent stared at the sideline long after a point was over, unable to believe that Sue had done it to her again.
I watched her rally back from being down 1-6 in the first set. I watched her overcome four double faults in the second set tie-breaker. And I watched her shaky start in the third.
In the finals match, Sue faced the opponent I'd lost to in my semi-final match. Again it took three sets, but when it was over and Sue was handed her trophy, I never felt prouder.
I try to take away something from every match, won or lost, played or watched. I try to note things I need to work on, or emulate play that I've seen.
This time, the post tournament goal was easy to recognize.
I want to be like Sue.
KS
Monday, October 12, 2009
McFetridge Open
In my quest for tennis excellence, I signed up for a tennis tournament in Chicago at the McFetridge Sports Center. I've been playing tournaments for a few years now and I find that I can usually find good competition in Chicago, whereas; the draws for tennis tournaments for the woman open player in Michigan can be sparse.
I am sure the economy, the blame for everything from unemployment to Dunkin Donut's cutting back on my favorite twelve-pack, is the reason for the recent drop in participation at tournaments. So, it is getting very hard to find tournaments to sign up for where its worth the time, money and effort to play.
There were two tournaments going on in Chicago this past weekend. One was a tournament for adults, 21-over. The stakes were higher, the prize being an expense-paid trip to Georgia to compete at the next level where a win would provide the talented player the opportunity to play in an amateur tournament to be held in Australia during the Open. As much as I desire to one day be competitive enough to compete with the great women who were signed up for that tournament, I know my tennis game is still in the "development" phase.
So I signed up for the McFetridge Open and met a tournament director that will make that stop a recurring stop on my "tour schedule". Scotty was accommodating from the start. With the small draw, he wanted the tournament to happen and to make it worth everyone's time. So, my competition? A couple of twelve-year olds and a fifteen year old!
All of them, wonderful competitors and I thoroughly enjoyed the time on the court we spent together, though I lost to both of the 12-year olds.
A friend of mine was conflicted about which Chicago tournament to sign up for and ended up signing up for the other one. Both tournaments were supposed to be a single elimination, but because of the small draw at McFetridge, the girls and I got to play a round-robin format where we got to play everyone in the draw. Then we capped off the weekend with a doubles match, which I really enjoyed.
It's hard to find consistent competition in Michigan at times. I attend clinics and weekly lessons. I have several hitting partners. But the intensity that I felt this weekend, battling it out with sluggers who could handle their own, is something that can't be re-created at a city park any given afternoon.
I played two matches on Saturday and two on Sunday. The first set of my first match went by very quickly, but I found a rhythm in the second set, and pushed my opponent to a second-set tiebreaker. Though I lost, I loved the fact that I figured out kinks in my game and would play another match were I could quickly implement the changes.
There were a lot of little things that were corrected, but the two major ones was my serve and working the point.
My serve has always been a big weapon. Whenever I play up levels or I play against guys who are stronger, faster and just generally, better than me, my serve is a neutralizer. But it can be erratic. This weekend I watched my opponents serve. I watched how relaxed and easy-going their motion looked compared to my amped up, sometimes spastic one. I tried it in my warm up and oh what a difference.
Thinking it was a fluke, I tried it again and again, but my serve was bigger, my consistent, deeper in the serve box and all without me looking like I am teeing off on the ball!
The second thing was me being patient during the points, looking for winners, but being able to pull back and settle into a rally when the winner wasn't there or the opportunity was missed.
As usual, the tournament, despite win/loss results was a positive one for me. It renewed my passion, my dedication to training and getting better and my belief in my game.
Thank you to the entire staff at the McFetridge Sports Center who was so nice and had good things to say about my game.
Next up for me is the Midwest Indoor Championships in Grand Rapids in a couple of weeks. I hope to play well and I will keep you posted.
Stay tuned...
KS
I am sure the economy, the blame for everything from unemployment to Dunkin Donut's cutting back on my favorite twelve-pack, is the reason for the recent drop in participation at tournaments. So, it is getting very hard to find tournaments to sign up for where its worth the time, money and effort to play.
There were two tournaments going on in Chicago this past weekend. One was a tournament for adults, 21-over. The stakes were higher, the prize being an expense-paid trip to Georgia to compete at the next level where a win would provide the talented player the opportunity to play in an amateur tournament to be held in Australia during the Open. As much as I desire to one day be competitive enough to compete with the great women who were signed up for that tournament, I know my tennis game is still in the "development" phase.
So I signed up for the McFetridge Open and met a tournament director that will make that stop a recurring stop on my "tour schedule". Scotty was accommodating from the start. With the small draw, he wanted the tournament to happen and to make it worth everyone's time. So, my competition? A couple of twelve-year olds and a fifteen year old!
All of them, wonderful competitors and I thoroughly enjoyed the time on the court we spent together, though I lost to both of the 12-year olds.
A friend of mine was conflicted about which Chicago tournament to sign up for and ended up signing up for the other one. Both tournaments were supposed to be a single elimination, but because of the small draw at McFetridge, the girls and I got to play a round-robin format where we got to play everyone in the draw. Then we capped off the weekend with a doubles match, which I really enjoyed.
It's hard to find consistent competition in Michigan at times. I attend clinics and weekly lessons. I have several hitting partners. But the intensity that I felt this weekend, battling it out with sluggers who could handle their own, is something that can't be re-created at a city park any given afternoon.
I played two matches on Saturday and two on Sunday. The first set of my first match went by very quickly, but I found a rhythm in the second set, and pushed my opponent to a second-set tiebreaker. Though I lost, I loved the fact that I figured out kinks in my game and would play another match were I could quickly implement the changes.
There were a lot of little things that were corrected, but the two major ones was my serve and working the point.
My serve has always been a big weapon. Whenever I play up levels or I play against guys who are stronger, faster and just generally, better than me, my serve is a neutralizer. But it can be erratic. This weekend I watched my opponents serve. I watched how relaxed and easy-going their motion looked compared to my amped up, sometimes spastic one. I tried it in my warm up and oh what a difference.
Thinking it was a fluke, I tried it again and again, but my serve was bigger, my consistent, deeper in the serve box and all without me looking like I am teeing off on the ball!
The second thing was me being patient during the points, looking for winners, but being able to pull back and settle into a rally when the winner wasn't there or the opportunity was missed.
As usual, the tournament, despite win/loss results was a positive one for me. It renewed my passion, my dedication to training and getting better and my belief in my game.
Thank you to the entire staff at the McFetridge Sports Center who was so nice and had good things to say about my game.
Next up for me is the Midwest Indoor Championships in Grand Rapids in a couple of weeks. I hope to play well and I will keep you posted.
Stay tuned...
KS
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Coming Up Short
Last weekend was the Midwest Sectional Tournament for mixed doubles. My team, a team from Livonia, had started this journey months ago in January. For some of us, like our captain, Archie, the dream was much older than that.
I don't know when, exactly, I started to believe in the talent of this team. Maybe it was when we won the winter playoffs back in April. My partner and I played on the first court and loss. And because other teammates had elected to use the red score cards to record their score rather than the black that Fred and I used, I assumed we lost the match. It wasn't until later that our individual loss meant so little as I found out that our team had advanced to the next stage, playing the winner of the summer league in September.
Maybe I started to believe when we beat the summer league winners, a highly selective and scouted team from my home club, players who, year after year, appear in the final stages of the playoffs. The win for SE Michigan champions was dramatic and despite my partner being injured and not playing, we were able to overcome the slight bump and forge ahead to states.
Maybe I started to believe when we went to states and in three matches, manged to win all three courts each time. We advanced to Sectionals without dropping a match.
Sectionals in Indiana was a little intimidating. We had to go without one of our starting women and one of our starting men. Lineups were jumbled a bit and we put our best foot forward, winning the first match against Illinois.
The real competition came from Indiana, a team who boasted all morning about their plans to go to Nationals. They had their trip all planned out. Sectionals to them was just a formality. For us, we wanted to prove ourselves, to earn a right to compete for the National Championship in Vegas. Although we lost the match, my partner and I had to play a team that had not lost a match all year. On paper, they looked more intimidating than anyone we'd ever played, and yet, we won.
Our team came up short at the very end. In order to advance we had to take all three courts. For Indiana to advance, they needed us to take two courts. And for our opponents, the quietly advancing Ohio, all they needed was to simply win the match. And they did.
Of course, we wish them luck. Part of me is not the gracious loser I pretended to be after watching our chance slip away. I wanted to go to Vegas. I wanted to compete for that championship. And the hardest thing to swallow is knowing that we were good enough, that we were a capable team. The hardest thing to swallow is that we simply came up short.
Coming up short on a Sunday leaves you with a hangover on Monday. Even a five hour drive home was not enough to kill the buzz and the disappointment of the weekend. But, I move on. Our team moves on.
Today was a day of training. And hitting and working toward the next goal. In three trips to Indiana, I'd never come as close as I had to advancing to Nationals and you know what? I want it. I am going to work for it. And I hope my team works for it as well.
Thank you, Team Livonia. It was a wonderful ride, but that journey is over and its time to plan for the next one.
Stay tuned...
KS
I don't know when, exactly, I started to believe in the talent of this team. Maybe it was when we won the winter playoffs back in April. My partner and I played on the first court and loss. And because other teammates had elected to use the red score cards to record their score rather than the black that Fred and I used, I assumed we lost the match. It wasn't until later that our individual loss meant so little as I found out that our team had advanced to the next stage, playing the winner of the summer league in September.
Maybe I started to believe when we beat the summer league winners, a highly selective and scouted team from my home club, players who, year after year, appear in the final stages of the playoffs. The win for SE Michigan champions was dramatic and despite my partner being injured and not playing, we were able to overcome the slight bump and forge ahead to states.
Maybe I started to believe when we went to states and in three matches, manged to win all three courts each time. We advanced to Sectionals without dropping a match.
Sectionals in Indiana was a little intimidating. We had to go without one of our starting women and one of our starting men. Lineups were jumbled a bit and we put our best foot forward, winning the first match against Illinois.
The real competition came from Indiana, a team who boasted all morning about their plans to go to Nationals. They had their trip all planned out. Sectionals to them was just a formality. For us, we wanted to prove ourselves, to earn a right to compete for the National Championship in Vegas. Although we lost the match, my partner and I had to play a team that had not lost a match all year. On paper, they looked more intimidating than anyone we'd ever played, and yet, we won.
Our team came up short at the very end. In order to advance we had to take all three courts. For Indiana to advance, they needed us to take two courts. And for our opponents, the quietly advancing Ohio, all they needed was to simply win the match. And they did.
Of course, we wish them luck. Part of me is not the gracious loser I pretended to be after watching our chance slip away. I wanted to go to Vegas. I wanted to compete for that championship. And the hardest thing to swallow is knowing that we were good enough, that we were a capable team. The hardest thing to swallow is that we simply came up short.
Coming up short on a Sunday leaves you with a hangover on Monday. Even a five hour drive home was not enough to kill the buzz and the disappointment of the weekend. But, I move on. Our team moves on.
Today was a day of training. And hitting and working toward the next goal. In three trips to Indiana, I'd never come as close as I had to advancing to Nationals and you know what? I want it. I am going to work for it. And I hope my team works for it as well.
Thank you, Team Livonia. It was a wonderful ride, but that journey is over and its time to plan for the next one.
Stay tuned...
KS
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
The Fragility of Confidence
Labor Day weekend, I played in the Romeo Peach Festival Tennis Tournament. My entry was a last minute decision. I have spent the summer playing tennis and neglecting my Mark and although I haven't heard even the slightest hint of a complaint from him, I really did not want to abandon him the entire four day holiday weekend. But when I read the entry form and realized the entire draw was to be played out on one day, I decided to go for it.
Although the tournament was just for fun, a traditional event in the Labor Day activities scheduled, I desperately needed to play and play well. Not for points, but for the much needed repair of my much damaged tennis ego.
Two days after I returned from the Saint Joseph's Open, Mark and I hit the courts. This was the summer I was going to teach him to play, but because of my busy schedule and a foot injury he incurred the first time we went out in May, the lessons were going slow, to say the least. We spent some time on the court with me becoming frustrated at my inability to teach him the difference between a home-run swing and a proper forehand. (Or any forehand where his ball would land in the fenced area of the tennis court.) We took a break and I tried a different approach; having Mark drop the ball with one hand and swinging through with the other hand. After a few tries, he got it. Completely! I was so impressed. We finished out a hopper of balls and then tried once again to rally. Never have I felt so conflicted; so proud of him, on one hand for the consistency of his forehands, which were complete with spin and depth, yet, so completely devastated by the fact, I was the one who could not keep more than a couple of balls in play.
There are times, as a player, you think about quitting. For me, my mind usually knows that I am better than the poor performance of an isolated match. My mind knows that it is not possible to win every single time you step onto a court or to be able to execute a game plan perfectly every time you opt to use it. But sometimes, despite a summer season of remarkable success, my heart doubts the logic of my mind, "Maybe you aren't as good as your thought. Maybe you suck. Maybe 32 wins in one season was a fluke."
I watch players on television from all sports, thump their chest when they do the unthinkable, the unbelievable.
And I understand.
Success on the court, on the field, on the ice, isn't always about what your mind knows. Or what you've practiced doing thousands of times. It isn't what people expect of you or even what you expect of yourself.
Success, many times, depends on the confidence located in your heart.
Its easy to watch our favorite athletes and criticize. "Hossa didn't try hard enough to score a goal.", "If Granderson really wanted to, he could hit better.", "Detroit Pistons...What the hell?" Perhaps, this is because in our heads, in our minds, we comprehend the abilities of our sport heroes. We logically understand, that though every time we swing a bat, the best we ever do is push the ball past Fat Joe, whose pre-game meal consisted of the three brats he grabbed from the concession stand on his way to right field, the place for every team's 'Fat Joe' to minimize the damage. We understand in our minds that if we were ever in a pinch and needed to grab Jim's grandma to have her pinch hit, that she, too, with eighty-seven year old arms and her glaucoma in both eyes could bat a ball past Fat Joe.
What we don't understand, the factor that we fail to account for, is the fragility of confidence. Marian Hossa, a brilliant player who gave Red Wing fans fits in the 2008 Stanley Cup Finals, failed to return the favor to his former team in 2009. And during most of the finals, you could see the doubt in his eyes. Despite what his mind told him, what his stats told him, his damaged confidence made him question his abilities.
From time to time, this happens to all of us. And I question how to get through it. This time, I chose to play a tournament for fun, to see how much tennis I could play in one day. Testing my endurance, the limits of my fitness is always fulfilling to me.
So, on Sunday, I played three matches over the course of six and a half hours with less than thirty minutes rest total. I played a three-set match against a woman, who on paper, is a better player than me. And I prevailed. And for my last match, a two hour marathon during which I could feel the cramps nipping at my heels, I played through fatigue and hunger. I played through twenty-shot rallies, scrambling from side to side. Some of these points I won and some I lost. But with every won point, I could feel the barometer of my confidence meter rising. The familiarity of shots came back to me. My serve, always a big weapon for me, had taken a hiatus during the month of August, but out of the blue, when I wasn't even looking for it, returned.
At the end of the day, I was exhausted, but my confidence was back...
For now...
Stay tuned...
Although the tournament was just for fun, a traditional event in the Labor Day activities scheduled, I desperately needed to play and play well. Not for points, but for the much needed repair of my much damaged tennis ego.
Two days after I returned from the Saint Joseph's Open, Mark and I hit the courts. This was the summer I was going to teach him to play, but because of my busy schedule and a foot injury he incurred the first time we went out in May, the lessons were going slow, to say the least. We spent some time on the court with me becoming frustrated at my inability to teach him the difference between a home-run swing and a proper forehand. (Or any forehand where his ball would land in the fenced area of the tennis court.) We took a break and I tried a different approach; having Mark drop the ball with one hand and swinging through with the other hand. After a few tries, he got it. Completely! I was so impressed. We finished out a hopper of balls and then tried once again to rally. Never have I felt so conflicted; so proud of him, on one hand for the consistency of his forehands, which were complete with spin and depth, yet, so completely devastated by the fact, I was the one who could not keep more than a couple of balls in play.
There are times, as a player, you think about quitting. For me, my mind usually knows that I am better than the poor performance of an isolated match. My mind knows that it is not possible to win every single time you step onto a court or to be able to execute a game plan perfectly every time you opt to use it. But sometimes, despite a summer season of remarkable success, my heart doubts the logic of my mind, "Maybe you aren't as good as your thought. Maybe you suck. Maybe 32 wins in one season was a fluke."
I watch players on television from all sports, thump their chest when they do the unthinkable, the unbelievable.
And I understand.
Success on the court, on the field, on the ice, isn't always about what your mind knows. Or what you've practiced doing thousands of times. It isn't what people expect of you or even what you expect of yourself.
Success, many times, depends on the confidence located in your heart.
Its easy to watch our favorite athletes and criticize. "Hossa didn't try hard enough to score a goal.", "If Granderson really wanted to, he could hit better.", "Detroit Pistons...What the hell?" Perhaps, this is because in our heads, in our minds, we comprehend the abilities of our sport heroes. We logically understand, that though every time we swing a bat, the best we ever do is push the ball past Fat Joe, whose pre-game meal consisted of the three brats he grabbed from the concession stand on his way to right field, the place for every team's 'Fat Joe' to minimize the damage. We understand in our minds that if we were ever in a pinch and needed to grab Jim's grandma to have her pinch hit, that she, too, with eighty-seven year old arms and her glaucoma in both eyes could bat a ball past Fat Joe.
What we don't understand, the factor that we fail to account for, is the fragility of confidence. Marian Hossa, a brilliant player who gave Red Wing fans fits in the 2008 Stanley Cup Finals, failed to return the favor to his former team in 2009. And during most of the finals, you could see the doubt in his eyes. Despite what his mind told him, what his stats told him, his damaged confidence made him question his abilities.
From time to time, this happens to all of us. And I question how to get through it. This time, I chose to play a tournament for fun, to see how much tennis I could play in one day. Testing my endurance, the limits of my fitness is always fulfilling to me.
So, on Sunday, I played three matches over the course of six and a half hours with less than thirty minutes rest total. I played a three-set match against a woman, who on paper, is a better player than me. And I prevailed. And for my last match, a two hour marathon during which I could feel the cramps nipping at my heels, I played through fatigue and hunger. I played through twenty-shot rallies, scrambling from side to side. Some of these points I won and some I lost. But with every won point, I could feel the barometer of my confidence meter rising. The familiarity of shots came back to me. My serve, always a big weapon for me, had taken a hiatus during the month of August, but out of the blue, when I wasn't even looking for it, returned.
At the end of the day, I was exhausted, but my confidence was back...
For now...
Stay tuned...
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