I haven't been posting much lately, and that's because I've been dealing with family issues. I thought, even against all the evidence I had to the contrary, that at some point, the weight of the responsibility of caring for my sick father would be alleviated once he got better. That actually didn't end up happening.
My father died a couple of weeks ago and since then, I've not been in the mood for much, least of all tennis. So here I am, back on the therapy couch.
Did I ever tell you guys about how my dad became a tennis fan?
So about 16 years ago, I was becoming obsessed with the sport. I was playing it, was dating a guy I met because of it, was actually getting good at it. I loved watching it on television. Whenever I talked to my dad, he would talk to me about boxing and I would talk to him about tennis. I never really liked boxing. My dad loved boxing. I hadn't watched boxing since I was under his roof because we had one television and I had no choice. We're talking Mike Tyson's heyday here. And honestly, growing up in Brooklyn with Tyson knocking out everyone lined up against him? It would have been sacrilege not to follow that. But that was the depth of my boxing expertise.
Now, despite my possibly obvious disinterest in the sport, it didn't change my dad's determination to narrate each blow of the recent match he watched. I listened. He was super jacked about it. But still, no dice. No boxing fandom for me.
My dad eventually moved to a housing development with a pool and tennis court. When we went to visit one time, he wanted to have a hit. One thing you should know about my dad is that he was very meticulous about his appearance. And yet, he came out with my then-boyfriend and I to his tennis courts and allowed photographical evidence of his completely wack tennis game to be recorded. Now, I would never actually share those tiny images of him completely mishandling his racquet and looking decidedly uncoordinated that I took on a Motorola Razr nearly 13 years ago.
Bah, he wouldn't have minded.
But here's the thing. So it never occurred to me that I should start watching boxing because my dad liked it. For me, it was like, "No, I didn't see that fight. Let's talk about something else!" And we could. There was no shortage of things to talk about with him. There was life, movies, books, current events, and the like. But my dad knew that I had this new passion and did not resolve, as I did, to talk about something else, or to allow the other person to ramble on just because. No. My dude became a tennis fan. And I'm not talking about folks who are Serena/Maria/Fed stans. He watched all the matches. He trended towards the young Americans and women's tennis, especially the rivalries. It never ceased to surprise me just how much he got entrenched. He knew all the player names, and when we turned on tennis at his house, he could go on about Marion Bartoli's game, or that of Simona Halep. I know he still loved boxing.
It's not like I feel guilt for not becoming a boxing fan, because to expect someone to pick up a sport because someone they care about cares about it is a lot. But he did it.
What does that say about him?
Things I didn't fully understand until now.