On how I became a tennis junkie

Note: there is no moral or inspirational message contained in this post. It is simply a recitation of how I came to fall in in love with tennis. This will set the foundation for what will likely be many future posts on the topic. You have been warned.

This Monday I'm heading to Palm Springs to watch a pro tennis tournament. Most Americans probably have not heard of it, because most Americans don't pay attention to tennis*, but it's called the BNP Paribas Open, and typically referred to by folks that go there as Indian Wells. It's classified as a Masters 1000 tournament, of which there are nine per season. They are one step down from the four major tournaments (Australian Open, French Open, Wimbledon, US Open), and feature all of the top pro players in the world. The 1000 refers to the amount of points that the winner of the tournament receives, which goes into his/her points total to determine ranking, and therefore seeding at tournaments.

I started playing tennis as a freshman in highschool because I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t into team or contact sports and running was boring, so tennis was the only sport left. I played poorly (but loved it) for three years and worked my way up to number one on the JV team. I would play and go to practice, and then go home and not think about tennis. It was like recess for me: a fun break from the monotony of school. I never watched tennis matches on TV, or read books, or sought out lessons, but I did love it while I was playing. My senior year forced me to play on the varsity team. That team felt way less fun and much more serious, so I decided to start a band instead and quit the tennis team.

Fast forward to January, 2011 (16 years later. I had casually picked up a racquet about five times in this span). Some friends that have maybe even less tennis in their blood than I do mention an epic tennis match they recently watched online. I'm not sure how they found it, but it might have to do with a David Foster Wallace article they'd come across which may have inspired more research into the subject of that article: Roger Federer.* That is speculation, of course. (This article, by the way, may be the most eloquent article ever written about Federer or tennis ever, and is a perfect example of the effect Federer seems to have on anyone that watches him play [which is something between falling madly and dumbly in love and dropping to your knees in reverence to a god]. I highly recommend reading Wallace's article to do full justice to the topic). The video was none other than Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal's epic 2008 Wimbledon final - a match that many consider the greatest match of all time. There is indeed even a full book written about this single match by L. John Wertheim (which I also highly recommend reading). This was a rematch of the previous year's final, which was a rematch of the previous year's final (they met in the finals at Wimbledon in both 2006 and 2007, with Federer winning both of them).

The enthusiasm with which my friends spoke of this epic match convinced me that this was indeed worth watching. So one January night, I sat down at our kitchen table, looked it up on YouTube, and proceeded to be blown away by what I saw for the next five hours (again, I highly recommend watching this video on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Or right now. But plan on not going anywhere or getting anything done for five hours. I guarantee you will not be able to leave until it is over).

As I said, it had been about sixteen years since I paid any attention to tennis, which even at that time was mostly peripherally. In the mid 90's it was hard to miss the fact that Agassi and Sampras were two of the top players in the world, mostly because they were American. Other than that and since then, I knew exactly zero players on tour. I'd heard the name Federer, and Nadal also sounded familiar, but had honestly never seen either of them.

In that video, I learned a lot about the character and style of both of them. Federer: smooth, graceful, relaxed, elegant, finesse, fluid. He came across almost regal on that court. And some would say he had every right to act like he owned the place; he'd won the tournament the previous five consecutive years, which tied the record with Bjorn Borg for most consecutive wins at Wimbledon in the Open Era. Here he was, seeking to beat that record and further define himself as the best player in history. Federer glided around the court, moving deceptively quickly with seeming effortlessness. In spite of the intensity of it, he didn't seem to break a sweat.

Nadal seemed to be the polar opposite: powerful, intense, energetic, focused, quick, relentless. Nadal wore what looked like a white t-shirt with cutoff sleeves, bulging muscles everywhere. His energy could not be contained; he paced, fidgeted, fiddled with his shorts, his hair, his shirt. When he paced, he avoided lines, so he seemed almost like a wild animal in a cage. Even while sitting his feet continued to tap intensely. Nadal's tennis strokes seemed to be composed of everything he had, and as he swung he'd grunt louder with each hit, sweat would fly, his whole body would convulse, and his forehand would finish high above his head, imparting extreme spin and speed on the ball at the same time. It looked almost painful. Some understandably compared him to a raging bull.

In spite of these seemingly stark visual contrasts, Nadal could place his shots as elegantly as Federer, and Federer could rip a forehand as powerfully as Nadal. While their appearances and style were in many ways opposite, they both had such well rounded games that it seemed there was nothing that either of them couldn't do on a tennis court.

Watching this match, it felt like every other point would have a rally where one would hit a shot that was undoubtedly a winner, but the other one would some how retrieve it and not only get it back over but return it as a winner. Sometimes this would happen multiple times in one rally.

Well, needless to say, I was transfixed. Jamie came in about halfway through, and she was sucked in as well. We watched the rest of it laughing, taking the lord's name in vain, and generally ooohhh-ing and aahhh-ing in disbelief at what we were seeing. This was a completely different level of tennis than I had previously been able to comprehend. I was inspired. Tennis re-entered my life.

Two months later, Jamie and I are getting away for a week to Palm Springs to escape the endless clouds and rain of the Pacific Northwest. We touch down at the airport, head into the baggage claim area, and decide to stop at the visitor's booth to see what we can do while in town. The elderly woman at the desk asks if we're here to see the tennis tournament. No, we say, we didn't know there was a tennis tournament. Oh, yes, she says, it's a pretty big deal here. Cool, we say, figuring this is expensive or sold out or something distant and unreachable for us poor kids in this wealthy place. We pick up some info about things to do locally, and go to pick up our bags.

At our condo, we haven't had an opportunity to go to the grocery store yet, so we head out to look for a place to eat. We find a Mexican restaurant, have a seat and order some fajitas. I hear some people at a table next to us talking about tennis. They have lanyards around their necks with tickets on them. I ask if they went to the tennis tournament. Yes, they have.
"You guys?" they reply.
"No, we didn't even realize it was happening until we arrived today."
"You should go, it is amazing."
"Hmm. Maybe we will."
"Hey, we're done for tonight but our tickets are still good, and the tournament goes till like 11pm. You're welcome to use our tickets for the rest of the night if you want."
"Really?"
"Yeah, for sure."

So that was how it happened. We finished our meal and raced to the courts, which happened to be just a few blocks away. We arrived in time to see someone named Maria Sharapova beat someone else I didn't know. Seeing these women playing in person was thoroughly engaging. Seeing them alone, dealing with the physical, mental, and emotional aspects of this match, felt extremely intimate. And watching the intensity of their groundstrokes, how much energy they put into each shot, the sounds that those pure tennis strokes made gave me the chills. I was hooked. We came back the next day. And the next. And decided to come back the following year with friends, and the next as well.

Yes, that is Federer, Wawrinka, Malisse, and Dolgopolov right behind us

Since watching that tournament, I've played as much tennis as my schedule and my friends schedules will allow. I don't know exactly what switched in me to make it a different experience than it was in high school, but something changed, and I cannot get enough of the sport. I've read multiple instructional and biographical books on tennis and tennis players, I regularly watch matches online, and religiously search for news about Federer and Nadal and tennis in general.

I think it is fair to say that in some ways it has changed my life. In the past couple of years, I've learned a lot about myself through tennis. I can't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound like one of those cheesy inspirational posters, so I'll just go with it: focus, dedication, the will to never give up, letting go... especially letting go.* There'll be more on all of this later, but in a nutshell, I am a better person because of my relationship with tennis.

Needless to say, I am very excited to return to the tournament next week.

* - Will be discussed in depth in a later entry.