Love all

Tonight I played tennis with some friends from church. It was the first time I'd played since last summer and um, it really showed. I spent a disastrous hour either missing the ball completely or hitting it wildly into the court next to us (where, embarassingly, another game was going on). I tried to pretend that inside I wasn't seething about the incredible level of athletic suckage I was exhibiting by reminding myself over and over of the great spelling test lesson of second grade. I was seven and brought home a great big F on my first spelling test. My mother's reaction was "I guess it means you will have to start studying". To which I replied, "what good will that do? If I don't already know it I don't see what studying will do!". My mother loves to remind me of that story everytime I'm tempted to quit something just because I haven't got the hang of it. I did in fact learn how to spell and amazingly enough, studying did help.

So after the girls left, I banished myself to the handball courts to practice hitting alone for a little while. I spent 30 frustrating minutes chasing the ball all over the place and not accomplishing much but wearing myself out. Next to me was a nice grey haired hispanic man playing handball alone who kept tossing them back to me when they would roll over to his court. A couple of times I hit a ball over the wall and he ran over to get it for me. It was very nice but you know, I was trying to practice, and I really needed to focus. So just as I was beginning to think that maybe I was doomed to be the world's worst tennis player, my friend from the court next door approached me, motioned to my racket and said "I show you?" in a heavy accent. Okay guy, show me how to play tennis in your neat handball gloves. Imagine my surprise-slash-embarrassment when he went completely Andre Agassi on me. I may be a terrible tennis player but I can recognize a powerful serve when I see it. Mr. Handball then spent the next 20 minutes working with me, showing me a better way to hold the racket, how to put more speed into my backhand, and most importantly how to bring a little control to my game. And then his son and grandson appeared and we shook hands, he wished me luck and off they went. I took all his advice for another half hour or so and was absolutely giddy with my progress by the time I finally forced myself into the car.

I know it was not really a very big deal, and there are plenty of nice people in the world and I don't need to be overly shocked about an old man giving free tennis tips to a girl in a short skirt, but it certainly made my night. So thanks Mr. Tennis Helper Guy!