I knew that when I decided to appeal my rating from 4.0 to 3.5, I would get more opportunities to play league matches, and like Elizabeth Warren, I had a plan for that. I wanted to start playing singles again and in case you didn't know, making yourself available for singles will make you the most popular player in said league. When my appeal was granted, I made it onto a team and just like that, I was about to play my first league singles match in *checks Tennislink* FIVE YEARS.
It's like riding a bike, I told myself. You know how to do it, so just jump right on. My first opponent was someone I'd never met, but from the time we started hitting, I knew this was going to be a tough match. At least I thought so. My opponent was consistent on both sides, decent mover, okay serve while warming up, but once the match started, I was facing little resistance. I wasn't happy with my own play, though. I was hitting a lot of framed shots that stayed in and I felt uncomfortable even after winning the first set. I worried that if she raised her level and I kept framing everything, it wouldn't end well for me.
What do you call it when you're a negative psychic, when you can only predict the bad things about to happen to you? Because, yeah, she raised her level and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't raise mine. And just as quickly as I won the first set, she won the second. Unfortunately, in Florida, that means a third-set tiebreaker.
I hate third-set tiebreakers. Why have a tiebreaker in place of a set when you can have a quick round of "Rock/Paper/Scissors?" Maybe a round of "What Number am I Thinking Of?" Not only are these tiebreaks dumb, but I do not do well with them. Need I remind you of my second stint at sectionals during a rain-delayed weekend? I'm sure the fact that they're dumb and that I don't fare well in them are not related, by the way. Not. At. All.
So, anyway, we get into this tiebreaker and I'm trying to convince myself that I love third-set tiebreakers, live for 'em, even. I didn't have to worry too much -- my opponent started with a double-fault and a few quick errors. I thought she might have been nervous, so I committed to hitting low-risk topspin deep into the court. But of course, she came back to tighten the situation and by now, all our teams are standing around watching us because we were one of the last matches. Still, I hung on somehow and won the match. It felt good. It was hot and it had been a physical match and I was glad to know I was still able to do this.
I won my second match, too, and then that just about did it for me in my region. The captain didn't play me until halfway through the season and I couldn't play the last two matches. Central Florida is just not it for league junkies like me. I knew that if I wanted to keep playing, I'd have to travel. Fortunately, I'm located smack dab in the middle of Tampa and Orlando, so, at maximum, we're talking about an hour both ways. And who doesn't love podcasts?
I found a team which featured a lot of the people I've played with before and I told the captain I wanted to play singles. Oh, did I mention that this was an 18-and-over team and that I'm quite far from 18? My first opponent, though? I would have carded her if I could. She was also accompanied by her coach or dad who sat courtside and who I had to see at each changeover. Later, he was joined by a spectator who had a glass of wine. Yeah, it was that kind of club.
Anyway, I jumped out to a 2-0 lead and was serving well, I thought. I felt pretty good for about 10 minutes. Then I began spraying errors all over the court. And I can even tell you when it started -- the stinkin' drop shot. I do not have a reliable drop shot. I just can't gauge the distance well and it ends up on my side of the net or it's a lob that lands just inside the service line. And I told myself to stop hitting them, but I noticed my opponent wasn't a great mover, and when I'd pull her wide, the dropper would be the smart move IF I WERE CAPABLE OF HITTING THEM. And so that problem just threw my whole game into a tailspin. Oh, also, these courts were har-tru (that's basically everything out here) and they were the worst -- dry, dusty and almost impossible to move through. I'm not making excuses.
I lost in the longest, most-agonizing pair of 6-3 sets I have ever played, and when it was over, I was very tired, and the next day, I was quite sore.
I didn't like losing, but I thought I had better stuff in me and told myself that I just needed to get the errors down. And in my second singles match, I did -- at the beginning. I was playing another young, fit player and my groundstrokes were working well. I was hitting my shots and I thought she seemed resigned that she wouldn't be able to track everything down. I won the first set and then in the second, things got complicated. It wasn't that complicated. My opponent just stopped hitting the ball -- she began poking everything in, and instead of coming in to the net like a smart person would, I just sat at the baseline, keeping these points going. I don't have a lot of confidence at the net, although in singles, you don't need to be super-precise. Which is something I probably should have told myself in that night as I was losing the second set. In the match tiebreak, I never could get on top -- I think I threw in a double fault early, and I never really recovered. Losing that one made me think that maybe I couldn't keep up with these young'uns. Until I woke up the next morning and felt ... nothing. No pain, no creaking. That made me feel good -- I thought that the only thing that I needed to worry about was my head. Well, that's easy, I told myself.
Ha.
The next match was against the type of player I'd normally like, hard hitter, nice serve, lots of pace. I was able to run and retrieve a lot, but when the last shot of the rally came, it was always to her advantage. In both sets, she lost her service game to win the set and both times, I failed to put pressure on her with my serve. I couldn't see in the match what I was doing wrong or how to fix it, but on the drive home, I asked myself how many times she was able to monopolize on my short returns. A lot. What I needed was not just the energy to cope with these players, but also the ability to think through strategy on the court. And I used to be able to do this. At least I thought I was.
After an unsuccessful foray into doubles (although again, it felt as if my game was locking into place), I got another chance at singles. My opponent was another ball poker and I told myself, "That's it -- you're getting into the net and you're not going to stop." And yet, when the set got tight, where was I? Yup, at the baseline, hitting bad-idea drop shots. After she won the first set, I got mad and I told myself -- verbally this time, and loudly -- to press into the court and end these points. And to my own surprise, I did. I won the second set 6-2 and then came my absolute favorite tiebreaker! Yay. Something weird happened during this tiebreak, though. I could sense myself getting nervous and I tried to talk myself down, and to simply breathe. But as soon as the point started, I committed myself to the strategy, to press into the court and to not stop, even if I missed a shot and before I knew it, the tiebreak was over and I had won it.
I wasn't overly joyful about the win because I felt it should have never gotten to the tiebreak situation. But it meant something to pull out ahead in a situation like that. Maybe it's the beginning of a reversal of fortune, the beginning of me settling down into singles again. But one lesson I've definitely learned is that you can be nervous in competition. You have to recognize it and cast it aside to do what you need to do to win.
Easy, right. Yeah. OK.
Saturday, October 19, 2019
Sunday, October 06, 2019
Postscript: I Went to the U.S. Open!
For the last eight years or so, I'd been telling myself that next year, I was definitely going back to the U.S. Open. But then I'd think of the logistics -- travel, child rearing-related stuff, finances -- and I'd talk myself out of it. This year, I had a bonus incentive. Earlier this year, I'd found myself back in Brooklyn for an unpleasant event -- my father's funeral. It could have been the sentimentality of the moment, but I actually found that I missed my hometown, and wanted to spend more time in it. So I booked my ticket and landed back in New York, and even in the house I grew up in (my mom still lives there).
There was more than one reunion happening. I found out that one of my old co-workers from my first job in newspapers was now covering the Open for a bunch of publications wanting local content on their hometown players. He offered to buy my ticket in advance so I could avoid the long lines of the olden days. I'm old enough to remember when you had to go to Flushing Meadows at the crack of dawn to buy grounds passes. I am sorry, but that is not happening for me on a vacation, no less. So, yes, Michael, thanks for that.
I was glad to know that Michael would be there because as the day drew closer, it only then occurred to me that I would be wandering around the Open by myself. Which you can do, of course. I generally prefer fewer people around me anyway, but what if I got to see Venus Williams (which, yeah, was another good reason not to wait any longer to go to this tournament) and had no one near me to shake maniacally after she hits a winner? I had sort of assumed the answer would be "no one" until a random conversation with my mother. Not only had she never been to the Open, but she really wanted to go! So did my sister in New Jersey. So off we went!
The Billie Jean King Tennis Center is completely different from the USTA National Tennis Center. Same location, completely different experience. The old place was really homey. I still remember walking on the grounds one year and Martina Navratilova just passed me, heading to her match. In the common area! That was one thing I looked forward to every year, but that part of it is largely gone. I did see Amelie Mauresmo shuffling her babies around (I think), but that was just about it. So where were the big wigs? Well, I figured that out by accident, when we stumbled upon a fenced-off area for VIPs. You had to show a badge to get back there. I tried to tell the security guy at the entrance that I was the CFO of JP Morgan Chase, but that I had just forgotten my badge, and I think I almost had him persuaded, but ultimately, we did not gain entry. Ah, well.
I knew I'd only be in New York for a few days, so I had to choose which day I'd be going to the Open. After a lot of back and forth, I finally decided on the first Wednesday -- and I chose wrong. Kind of. (I'll explain in a moment.) Once I got to NYC, the forecast suggested perfect weather throughout my stay, except for one day. Can you guess which day?
Still, the rules have changed a bit for access to stadium courts with grounds passes, which meant that there would be some tennis for us. Armstrong Stadium, which has a roof, would have play that day, as would Ashe, which still cost extra to get into. When we got there, Kei Nishikori was working to wrap up his second-round match with American Bradley Klahn. Nishikori was a game from winning the match in the third set, but blinked (napped might be better term because he went away for a bit), before finally prevailing in the fourth set. By then a lot of us were rooting for him to win quickly because of who was next up.
This is why Wednesday wasn't a total loss.
That's right. Venus Ebony Starr Williams. (And Gael Monfils in the second row.)
The main thing I wanted when I went to the Open was to see Venus play. That's why I chose the first week -- and early. I hate to say it, but you never know. Especially because if Monfils was there, it wasn't to root for Venus -- it was to root for his girlfriend Elina Svitolina. This was not a kind draw. Venus' record against Svitolina wasn't good, either, but given the surface, I thought there was maybe a chance. Maybe.
We were way up there in the stadium during the first set, and it was still a great seat. Check these out:
This angle can also be misleading ...
Well, everyone knows by now how this one went. I was pleasantly surprised to see Venus keep it so close and not so surprised that she double-faulted under pressure at the worst times. I'm about to start a GoFundMe for a coach who can finally get her out of that.
Of course, because of the rain, we were in Armstrong most of the day. (Michael had upgraded my seat to get into Ashe for the day session, but there was more going on in Armstrong, and so I ended up eating that extra five bucks. Oh well.) We kept jockeying for closer seating and slowly, but surely, it worked. Next up was Madison Keys against Zhu Lin, which was over by the time we got comfortable in better seats.
(That's Keys' serve, in case you couldn't tell.)
Then I consumed the most expensive personal pizza I've ever eaten. It was *checks wallet* yes, 14 dollars. Well, when you have a captive audience ...
Anyway, by this time, we were approaching the night session and I wanted to stay because if I could I would just live at the BJK Tennis Center and arrange my life around it. But I had company and I was almost afraid to ask them if they'd be down to stay for just one more match. Of course, they said.
(My family is great.)
So we got to watch Ash Barty take on Lauren Davis, which looks like an overmatch on paper. In person, and even from a distance, the size difference was obvious, too.
Lauren Davis is another one of those players who just has more K-tape on her each time she shows up to a tournament. Bless her heart, which is much larger than she is. She pushed Barty in this match and it might have been the best one of the day.
Then we went home. For an abbreviated version of the Open, it was still pretty great, and plus, we get a raincheck for next year. Which, uh, means we're going back next year. Which means I need to start saving up for lunch NOW.
There was more than one reunion happening. I found out that one of my old co-workers from my first job in newspapers was now covering the Open for a bunch of publications wanting local content on their hometown players. He offered to buy my ticket in advance so I could avoid the long lines of the olden days. I'm old enough to remember when you had to go to Flushing Meadows at the crack of dawn to buy grounds passes. I am sorry, but that is not happening for me on a vacation, no less. So, yes, Michael, thanks for that.
I was glad to know that Michael would be there because as the day drew closer, it only then occurred to me that I would be wandering around the Open by myself. Which you can do, of course. I generally prefer fewer people around me anyway, but what if I got to see Venus Williams (which, yeah, was another good reason not to wait any longer to go to this tournament) and had no one near me to shake maniacally after she hits a winner? I had sort of assumed the answer would be "no one" until a random conversation with my mother. Not only had she never been to the Open, but she really wanted to go! So did my sister in New Jersey. So off we went!
The Billie Jean King Tennis Center is completely different from the USTA National Tennis Center. Same location, completely different experience. The old place was really homey. I still remember walking on the grounds one year and Martina Navratilova just passed me, heading to her match. In the common area! That was one thing I looked forward to every year, but that part of it is largely gone. I did see Amelie Mauresmo shuffling her babies around (I think), but that was just about it. So where were the big wigs? Well, I figured that out by accident, when we stumbled upon a fenced-off area for VIPs. You had to show a badge to get back there. I tried to tell the security guy at the entrance that I was the CFO of JP Morgan Chase, but that I had just forgotten my badge, and I think I almost had him persuaded, but ultimately, we did not gain entry. Ah, well.
I knew I'd only be in New York for a few days, so I had to choose which day I'd be going to the Open. After a lot of back and forth, I finally decided on the first Wednesday -- and I chose wrong. Kind of. (I'll explain in a moment.) Once I got to NYC, the forecast suggested perfect weather throughout my stay, except for one day. Can you guess which day?
Still, the rules have changed a bit for access to stadium courts with grounds passes, which meant that there would be some tennis for us. Armstrong Stadium, which has a roof, would have play that day, as would Ashe, which still cost extra to get into. When we got there, Kei Nishikori was working to wrap up his second-round match with American Bradley Klahn. Nishikori was a game from winning the match in the third set, but blinked (napped might be better term because he went away for a bit), before finally prevailing in the fourth set. By then a lot of us were rooting for him to win quickly because of who was next up.
This is why Wednesday wasn't a total loss.
That's right. Venus Ebony Starr Williams. (And Gael Monfils in the second row.)
The main thing I wanted when I went to the Open was to see Venus play. That's why I chose the first week -- and early. I hate to say it, but you never know. Especially because if Monfils was there, it wasn't to root for Venus -- it was to root for his girlfriend Elina Svitolina. This was not a kind draw. Venus' record against Svitolina wasn't good, either, but given the surface, I thought there was maybe a chance. Maybe.
We were way up there in the stadium during the first set, and it was still a great seat. Check these out:
This angle can also be misleading ...
Well, everyone knows by now how this one went. I was pleasantly surprised to see Venus keep it so close and not so surprised that she double-faulted under pressure at the worst times. I'm about to start a GoFundMe for a coach who can finally get her out of that.
Of course, because of the rain, we were in Armstrong most of the day. (Michael had upgraded my seat to get into Ashe for the day session, but there was more going on in Armstrong, and so I ended up eating that extra five bucks. Oh well.) We kept jockeying for closer seating and slowly, but surely, it worked. Next up was Madison Keys against Zhu Lin, which was over by the time we got comfortable in better seats.
(That's Keys' serve, in case you couldn't tell.)
Then I consumed the most expensive personal pizza I've ever eaten. It was *checks wallet* yes, 14 dollars. Well, when you have a captive audience ...
Anyway, by this time, we were approaching the night session and I wanted to stay because if I could I would just live at the BJK Tennis Center and arrange my life around it. But I had company and I was almost afraid to ask them if they'd be down to stay for just one more match. Of course, they said.
(My family is great.)
So we got to watch Ash Barty take on Lauren Davis, which looks like an overmatch on paper. In person, and even from a distance, the size difference was obvious, too.
Lauren Davis is another one of those players who just has more K-tape on her each time she shows up to a tournament. Bless her heart, which is much larger than she is. She pushed Barty in this match and it might have been the best one of the day.
Then we went home. For an abbreviated version of the Open, it was still pretty great, and plus, we get a raincheck for next year. Which, uh, means we're going back next year. Which means I need to start saving up for lunch NOW.
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