I went to see a tennis match last weekend and I had a great time watching it. A friend's 17 year-old son was playing in a tournament and I wanted to show a little support. If you've read this blog for any length of time, then you know how much I loved playing tennis as I grew up and how I wanted to play at a higher level some day. It never happened for me, but I still love the game.
When I got to the courts to watch my friend's son, I felt at home—even on the sidelines. Hearing the ball brushing off the racket strings. Watching players get into position for the next shot. Seeing them both trying different strategies. It all felt so natural to me. And the nice thing was—I didn't have to do any of the work myself.
I'm not one to let go of the past easily. Especially when it comes to elements of my past that I truly loved. Tennis has been one of those loves. But it's the next generation's turn to pick up the racket and pursue their tennis dreams. It's their turn to work hard, or not. It's their turn to learn the game, or not. It's their turn to shine, or not.
It's my turn to watch and simply enjoy the game for what it is—a beautiful tapestry of skill, athleticism, shot-making ability, strategy, and emotion. Yeah, I'll still talk about what might have been to anybody who will listen, but then I'll settle back and experience the game—because no matter whether I'm playing it or watching it, it's still holds a certain allure over me and I have no intentions of giving it up any time soon.
