It was painful to watch Wole loose to another member during the club’s annual tourney in 2021. His opponent was a man in his late thirties who made his experience and mental strength work for him. Wole kept practicing because he planned to challenge the man who beat him.
The following year, I was drawn to play Wole for the first round of the annual tournament, it was an interesting match-up because Wole was not only my guy, we shared a strikingly similar skill set. Our consistent training sessions together only added to the allure of what promised to be an interesting and closely contested match-up.
For a very long time, tennis has been part of my life, it is one constant activity that keeps me going on any kind of day. Having a bad day, I play tennis, I pass an exam, I reward myself by playing tennis, heartbroken, tennis, bored, tennis, I have a lot to do and don’t know where to start, I put the court first, the list goes on and on. The beauty of the sport is that how I feel mirrors my game, I get my ass whooped a lot because my 9 to 5 can be frustrating.
As the match day drew near, I hadn’t been using my preferred tennis racket due to the need for restringing. Instead, I relied on an alternate racket that didn’t quite resonate with my playing style. This already set an initial tone in my mind as the fear and doubt started creeping in. This belief would affect me terribly and this was not even an excuse for what was to happen.
It was match day and I struggled to believe I could win the match up, the first and second set went to Wole and I took one back, it was 2–1 at this point and the game was balanced. I started making silly mistakes on my forehand and my opponent kept his composure and responded emphatically for every weak shot I set before him, l paid dearly and this killed my moral, it was game over before we got half way.
I changed rackets mid game hoping this will make me rally and hit winners, it only made things worst. During time outs I tried to psych myself up, thought of how much I needed to win one more game at least, this never happened, it was game set and match, the match ended 8–3 in favour of Wole.
The days that followed was a bit of torture, I hated tennis so much that I took a break from playing. It was then I realised that tennis transcends beauty and glamour, it is a brutal sport that is capable of breaking your spirit over and over and over. This is how it works: you make a mistake, then try to correct yourself by doing something different, only to stumble into another error. Frustratingly, the instinct leads back to the familiar because you are now so sure that you were doing it right, before you comprehend what is happening, it is game set and match, you just lost in the most confusing way.
My sojourn with tennis is indeed a love hate affair.
