Why I Hate Tennis

686 Words2 Pages

As the sun unforgivingly beats down on the lonely desert of Albuquerque, New Mexico, my opponent and I slowly drag our feet back into position. As sweat drips down our necks, we pierce each other’s soul with our eyes like gladiators in an arena, desperately searching for an opening to strike. It’s all come down to this point; it’s do or die. He bounces the ball against the ground, quietly analyzing his options with hawk-like eyes, and, in turn, I strengthen my grip on my tennis racket and brace myself for impact. Though the four-year gap between us gives my opponent a significant advantage, making his physical ability akin to Goliath’s in relation to my own pitiful “David-like” strength, I have erased all thoughts of defeat after trading points …show more content…

And I hated it. Tournaments consisted of dreadfully long car trips to the tennis club, suffering expected defeats in the first round to some unnamed middle-schooler, and then drowning myself in tears as my father lectured me about unforced errors on the trip home. As a result, I started to hate tennis, and when my dad was diagnosed with small cell stage-four lung cancer, part of me almost breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped forcing me to participate in his rigorous, self-established tennis bootcamp. There was no longer any need to struggle or to challenge myself, and for six years, I relished in the joys of unproductivity, while my peers showered me with praise for my flawless report …show more content…

In an unfamiliar world, every single one of my peers seemed to possess the brilliance of Einstein or the genius of Roger Federer, and I was once again forced to realize that I was simply a “snobby little eight-year-old” in a sea of middle-schoolers, except this time, I was one of them. For the second time in my life, I was failing miserably. I started to doubt my intellect as a human being, and my newfound fear of risking even the tiniest of failures constricted my growth as an

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