Fitzann Reid

Tennis


My Process Essay:

IS THIS ----- CRAZY- is the first thing that raced through my mind when my boss invited me to be her doubles partner at next Saturday's tennis tournament. Is it not enough to be annoyed by her presence five day's a week but now this- and to top it all off, I planed to spend Saturday resting for a romantic evening with my significant other. But as my mind raced to find a nicer way of saying WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER, I suddenly felt my lips move and sound come out. I heard myself say "sure, why not"- and no matter how much I fought it I couldn’t help but smile.

I was looking forward to Saturday- seeing as how I haven't got laid in over a month. Being 30 years old is as bad as I thought it would be. In my youth I would have probably told her to kiss my ass but as I get older it seems that I loose more and more of my cockiness. So as I watched her walk away, I wondered why is it that people come to me when they have no one else to turn to. Everyone in the office must have turned her down before she decided to ruin my weekend plans. Then I figured if I am giving up sex for tennis- then this dam match better last longer than an hour and I better come out on top (no pun intended).

The next day after work, I decided to go to the gym and work out- I had a week to rectify two years worth of damage because the fact was I could not last a point on the court in my current condition. I got a personal trainer and read instructional books on how to better my game. Meanwhile my real motivation was to find a suitable substitution for men- since there seemed to be a shortage of them lately.

I then began to focus my attention to my tennis strokes- which were nonexistant. I watched the matches on TV and realized that the players used two basic strokes- the forehand and the backhand. In the forehand, I learned to pivot the body so that the shoulder of my nonracket-bearing arm faces the net. Then I act like the ball is the face of my ------- ex-husband and I swing the racket as hard as I can forward to meet the ball. In the backhand stroke, I must turn so that the shoulder of the racket-bearing arm faces the net before bringing the racket forward and across the body to meet the balls (something my ex- husband lacked).

I was also introduced to the lob shot. Which is basically a shot you hit when you are about to lose the point- I mean all you have to do is hit a high, soft return behind an opponent who has approached the net. The overhead smash, on the other hand, is a powerful shot used to let the poor soul on the other side of the net, know that you mean business.

So when Saturday came, I purposely showed up late- I mean if I can't tell the ----- off I mine as well make her wait. And for some reason I always get the felling that "the Almighty" does not like me or tries to get a cheap laugh at my expense. When I finally arrived at the tennis center, I found out that we are playing two 75 year old women in hot pink halter tops. I mean really!!!! Being 75 is ok- but you should have given up showing skin at least 30 years ago and then have the nerve to wear hot pink thinking your cute- I'll Be Dammed.

Anyway we started off the match by tossing a coin to see who would serve. We won the toss so naturally we served first. To serve I stood behind the baseline and tossed the ball into the air and struck it before it hit the ground. If it went into my opponent's service area we played out the point- if not I had one more chance. Although this may sound boring, do keep in mind that I took this opportunity to "accidentally" hit my boss in her back a couple a times- and you would think after the first four times she would figure something out.

I kept on serving until it was my opponents turn. In preparation for returning serve, I stood a certain distance behind the service box line. It almost seemed like an eternity for them to serve the ball but when it came I was ready. We played like this- game after game after game until we eventually lost. I was fine about losing until they decided to jump around celebrating their victory- at which point I didn’t know if I should have congratulated them or called the paramedics so I left.

Monday morning at work, besides the pointing and laughing from my fellow co-workers, I didn’t think anyone knew about how badly we lost. All in all, it did turn out for the better because I got a raise and I met a guy. Even though neither may last very long, I am enjoying it for now.


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© Fitzann Reid 2000


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