Saturday, June 8, 2013

The Pain Of The French Open



All my life I have been good at most things I’ve tried. I was good in school regardless of the subject. I was good at History, Chemistry, and Trigonometry. I went to Cornell University and that did not present a big problem academically either. I’m a pretty good driver. When I put my mind to it, I’m not a bad cook.

I just got done watching the women’s French Open Tennis Championship. It was hard for me to watch it. It kind of stung. Four or five years ago I took up tennis. I have two friends who play tennis and I thought it would be a good, entertaining way for me to get some exercise. I bought a $200 racket and started practicing. I would hit the ball against a smooth, cement wall and then hit the rebound, or at least I’d try to hit the rebound. It did not go well. I did a lot of ball chasing and not much ball hitting. I figured something was wrong, my grip or something, so I went to a professional for a couple of lessons. He was encouraging but truth is; he did not really instill in me any knowledge that I did not already have. It turned out that my grip was fine. I was pretty good with my footwork, so there was no new information there. The instructor basically helped me practice, but that was about it. Apparently when it comes to tennis, there are no secrets to being good.

Well finally, after a couple of months of practicing, I took my “game” out onto the court to actually play. Needless to say; I pretty much stunk it up. My friends were supportive, but I was clearly not in their league, or anyone else's, to be honest. But I am pretty good at things, so I kept at it. It was just a matter of time before my talent kicked in and I would be just as good as the competition, or so I figured.

Five months passed and there was minimal improvement. Instead of winning a grand total of a point or two per set, I was winning three or four. I never won a single game, let alone a set against either of my friends. Worse, it was clear that they were feeling sorry for me. I would hit a ball squarely on the racket strings, and I would hear accolades, never mind the fact that the ball traveled to some faraway region, never coming close to actually landing in court.

Finally I could take no more and I quit. I’m sure my two tennis-playing friends felt relieved. Nobody was brokenhearted. But it was one of the hardest things I've ever done, at least emotionally. Still, it was a learning experience, in its own way. Now when I hear such axioms as; Quitting is for losers, I bristle. Quitting tennis was difficult for me, but I think it showed wisdom. Not to pat myself on the back, but quitting may have even showed character.

I do not recommend quitting, or giving up on something, but if you put in your best effort and fail, and fail, and then fail again, then sometimes quitting is the best thing. But let me give you fair warning; it might make it painful to watch the French Open.          

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