a christmas win

When I was 40, my doctor advised me that a man in his 40s shouldn't play tennis. I heeded his advice carefully and could hardly wait until I reached 50 to start again.
- Hugo Black

The opponent I was scheduled to play today in the league didn't show up. And to be honest, I was kind of relieved. It's been a busy month, maybe I could consider this an early Christmas gift in disguise from the tennis gods.

But the awesome people at the training center quickly called upon their resources to get me someone to play against. So I figured the gift gone, sat down with a cup of hot chocolate, and waited for my new opponent to arrive.

About half an hour later, she did, and was perhaps the nicest player I've played all season.

Not to mention, I won 6-1, 6-0 and got off the court with time to spare.

A Christmas gift well received, indeed.

On a side note, we took a short break after the first set to record the score, and when we were done, I sprinted back out onto the court with my pen...and no racquet. I realized it when I got to the baseline. Clearly, a writer and anxious tennis player all rolled into one.

I wouldn't have it any other way =)

rematch...kind of

The fifth set is not about tennis, it's about nerves.
- Boris Becker

Today's match was definitely an interesting one.

For starters, I got very little sleep last night. Writing and working, I was up until about 3 AM. So sleepy, in fact, was I when I finally got to bed, I forgot to remove my contact lenses. So when I woke up at 8 AM this morning, my eyes were not pleased in the least. They were dry, and my vision was annoyingly blurry. But after about 30 minutes, things began to look up, and at 8:45 I headed off to the courts.

I got there just on time, and when I went to look at who my opponent was, it was none other than the woman I first played in the league months ago. Awesome, right? Kind of. I was slightly nervous. Here I was, operating on little sleep and less than eager to go out and play tennis for an extended period of time, and I was about to face off with a player who would act as a gauge, in my head, of how far I've come in the league. Have I gotten better? Have I gotten worse? What has changed? What can I change? One match, as I saw it, was about to answer all those questions.

Wonderful.

So we got out on the court, and surprise, surprise, the first set was a bit of a flop. She took it 6-3. But even with the sleepiness and blurred vision, my game should've improved enough by this point to have taken the first set, right? Well, apparently not.

But it was what happened in the second set that salvaged the whole thing for me. I got angry (on the inside, of course). Frustrated, annoyed, and no longer tired, I realized I: 1. was playing with a brand new racquet; 2. had been training for several months now; and 3. was not about to let a lost first set lead to a similar result in the second. And I was definitely not about to let head games and tentative shots, the bane of my tennis existence, prevail - not again.

So I didn't. And I won the set 6-1. So there.

racquet wanted

It's shocking how little there is to do with tennis when you're just thinking about nothing except winning every point
- Andre Agassi

The match is over when you shake hands. Never before.

I was up 5-1 in the first set this morning against a player who I was actually feeling bad about beating so handily. And then it was 5-2, then 5-3, then 5-4. Fortunately, I was so annoyed at myself that sheer adrenaline helped me eek out the sixth game I needed to close it out. But even so, I had wasted so much time losing games in the first set, we didn't even get to finish the second set (league play runs for 1.5 hours, so whatever the score is at the end of that time is what counts...players move up in the ranks based on how many games they win overall, not necessarily how many sets).

Ugh, to say the least. What happened? Was it nerves? Was it over-confidence? Whatever it was, it was unnecessary.

One thing that didn't help, but that I can't fully attribute all the blame to, was my overworked racquet in desperate need of restringing. You're supposed to restring your racquet something like every six months. Ha - I think the last time I restrung mine was 2+ years ago. And for some reason, or so I thought, I was feeling the effects of it more than ever in this match.

Fast forward to my two-hour lesson, I'm playing against my tennis partner with our coach watching and critiquing from the side. Just thinking about how much I need to buy a player's racquet, or at least restring the one I have, is hindering my concentration. It's getting the best of me, and my game is feeling the frustration.

Then *pop*. The ball goes dead after making contact with my racquet, and I turn it over to look. I popped the strings. Craziness!! It was a dorky, first-time-I've-ever-done-that moment. My thoughts went to Pete Sampras, who used to do it frequently during his matches because of how tight his racquets were strung.

Of course, the reason his strings popped were not the same as why it happened to my racquet. It turns out it hadn't been in my head after all. The strings on my racquet were making their last stand, and I was fortunate to have even gotten through the morning's league match.

What to do then - I was on the court with no racquet. Turns out God does work in mysterious ways. My friend went over to her bag and pulled out the Wilson K Factor racquet she bought a month ago. She's taking a break from the game for a bit, plus, isn't too crazy about the racquet because it has way more control than the power she needs. So here, Melissa, you have it for the next three months.

So yeah, now I have a new racquet - kind of, for a little bit =) When I got home, I looked up the racquet. It is, indeed, all about control, and it was, how cool, Justine Henin's weapon of choice.

Let's see what I do with it...

corners, corners, corners

I think the tour should come up with something where they don't let players over 6' 6" play.
- Tommy Haas

My feet hurt. My arms hurt. My head hurts. Everything hurts.

Four hours of tennis in one day isn't exactly a trip to the gym, so I guess I should've expected as much.

The morning started with a match against a decent player who barely edged me out. It was clear I had frustrated her and upset the rhythm of her game. But I should've won. She was decent, not particularly very good, although better than some of the other players I've faced this season. Yet I wasn't horribly disappointed with the results. Part of the reason I haven't been excelling in league play over the past few months is because the game I play in a match stands in stark contrast to the one I play with my coach. I get tentative on shots. My thoughts cloud my actions. I overhit and underhit without really thinking about each point. I play to the level of my opponent, which results in me pushing the ball over the net, and her doing the same, until one of us commits an unforced error.

But this time was different. I felt I was hitting the ball with the power and relaxed strokes I was working on in my lessons. I wasn't shortchanging myself just to win a game. Sure, pushing the ball might win me a few games against a not-so-good player, but what good will that do me when I play someone better?

After the match, then came the two-hour lesson. Another one of my coach's players and me have joined our lessons so that we get to hit against each other. We both seem to suffer from the same tentative-shot-itis that's keeping our game from improving. The extended lesson was awesome. We saw what we were each doing, where our strengths were, and where our weaknesses were holding us back.

My big lesson for the day? Corners. Anywhere but the middle of the court. I have a penchant for playing it safe, just getting to the next point, even if that means sacrificing power and racquet speed. So in our match during the second hour, it was becoming painfully obvious. We were both stuck in the center of the court, where any beginner could easily get to the ball. There was no risk, no threat, no winning shot.

Corners, corners, corners. When I started to hit the ball there, I saw the results. The shots were harder to get to, harder to return. I was hitting winners. But for every corner I hit, I missed three. It felt like I was wailing away precious points.

And it'll probably continue to feel that way, until I get more comfortable with it, until I've done it over and over again. It's a matter of telling myself that it's okay to lose a few games now, only to know that I'll win games later against better players because of what I trained for now.

Ugh, it's just that I hate losing. The center of the court gives me one more chance to win the point. Gunning for the corners of the court involves a certain confidence that the better players have. It requires thought, precision, experience, guts.

Corners, corners, corners.

In a month, maybe two, we'll assess and see how I feel about the whole thing.

nerves on the court

The depressing thing about tennis is that no matter how good I get, I'll never be as good as a wall.
- Mitch Hedberg

So it's been a little more than a month since I've posted, but it hasn't been due to a lack of tennis playing. On the contrary, I've been playing quite a lot of tennis...and doing quite a lot of everything else in the interim (including an Urbanathlon...check out melissanavia.blogspot.com).

In terms of hours on the court, I've been spending approximately 4 hours on the court every week, made up of two lessons, one hour each, 1.5 hours of match play in a league, and give or take 30 minutes to an hour of play with friends. Starting next week, the goal is to increase that number to 6 hours on the court.

The league has been going, well...well. According to my coach, as well as me, I should be doing much better than my scores have been showing. He even watched one of my matches this past week through the viewing window (which didn't help my nerves) to figure out what exactly I was doing that was keeping me from winning every set in a league, he claims, where I should be winning every match rather easily. So he confirmed what we already knew - the strokes and level of play I exhibit in my lessons are far removed from what I deliver in a match. When I play, I not only get tentative on my shots, but I end up matching my opponent's level of play, thereby mitigating the potential of my game to beat hers. Suddenly I'm now pushing the ball over the net, playing it safe, waiting for her to commit an unforced error, rather than hitting a winner crosscourt or down the line. And of course, knowing what I should be doing becomes all too apparent eight shots into a rally, usually quickly followed by a ball hit way wide or slugged into the net.

Sure, it's definitely been some time since I last played competitively, about seven years, but by this point, after doing this for a month already, I should be a little more comfortable out there, right?

And the most irritating part is that I know exactly what I'm doing - getting tentative, just wanting to win each game by any shot, half-assed or not, possible - that's keeping me from improving my match play. But my coach told me something this past Tuesday that put it into perspective and that I think I'll put into practice wholeheartedly next time I'm on the court:

Would you rather win a set knowing that you used half of your potential to just get the ball over the net, thereby just kind of beating an opponent who doesn't train as much or is as good a player as you, or would you rather lose a set knowing that each shot you took was what you were capable of, some of which were the best winners you've hit all season?

I don't plan on my game plateauing at the 3.5 level. So yes, I think I will swing away the next time I'm out there. Win or lose, I can almost guarantee that I'll feel a lot better than I've been feeling after these last few matches. Beating someone who has trouble running down a ball or serving a respectable serve by a score of 7-5 shouldn't leave me relieved.

Relief is not a feeling I should be having at the end of these matches. What I should feel is great. I should feel like I just played an awesome match by my standards. I should feel like a tennis player that just keeps getting better.

let the training begin

Speed in tennis is a strange mixture of intuition, guesswork, footwork and hair-trigger reflexes. Many of the players famed for quickness on court would finish dead last in a field of schoolgirls in a race over any distance more than ten yards.
- Eugene Scott

I had my first official tennis match in quite some time just this past Tuesday. It was absolutely awesome. I was giddy from the moment I woke up to well after I had put my racquet down.

The match was basically a trial run for me of the women's advanced singles league at Robbie Wagner's Tournament Training Center in Glen Cove, NY. On average, the skill level of the women in the league is 3.5 (NTRP playing level), give or take, and the ages vary as well.

Considering I haven't really played much since last summer, except for some rallying and practice serves with Alex last Saturday to give me a feel for my racquet again, I didn't have the highest of expectations. There were certain things I definitely knew and certain things I knew I was going to find out.

Going into the 9 AM match, I knew I would have the power, but I would probably play it tentative on shots. Just how tentative was yet to be determined. I knew I would have the speed to get to most everything, but I wasn't sure if I could deliver with a winning shot once I got there. I knew I would be able to get most of my serves in, but I wasn't sure how fast or well-placed I could make them. I knew I was going to do my best to keep my cool, but I wasn't sure how much my emotions would affect my game.

Pretty much, everything I knew would happen, happened. Versus my opponent, I was certainly the stronger, faster, and more athletic. I had speed and adrenaline on my side, so I did, indeed, get to just about every shot she hit. I had the power, so when I wasn't overthinking a shot, I hit a pretty solid, fast winner. My serves did get in, with maybe two, at most three, double faults the whole match. And I kept my cool and my mouth shut (mostly because I was smiling so much).

We played two sets. Now, rather than playing best of three sets, we play up until 10:30, when the next round of women's matches are scheduled. My opponent took the first set 6-2. Was I annoyed? Definitely. But there were some key things I was doing that it took me a set to remedy. For one, I kept rushing the net, with the hopes of intimidating her and winning an easy shot. Quite the opposite kept happening. I would hit a decent shot, basically served to her on a silver platter, and run up to net, only to be surprised when she would lob the ball over my head for an easy point. There were also more unforced errors than winners. Some of the rallies we had were just fantastic, but it was putting the point away that was proving evasive.

Okay, so lessons learned, it was time for the second set...which I won 6-3.

I quickly adjusted after the first set's performance, stopped unecessarily rushing the net, played my points from the baseline, took my time, and hit more calculating shots. There was still more I could've done, considering that there were a few points where I thought I had the set in the bag at 6-1. Next lesson...learning to better close out a match.

And then it was 10:30, and my first match was officially ended. Alex was there to watch the whole momentous event unfold, and that made me more than happy. Not only had I performed pretty decently, but I had done it in front of a very special audience. I later learned that we're not allowed to have spectators, lest they should be coaches of some sort. At the thought of Alex possibly being my coach, we both had to laugh. He's getting better at playing, and he's my most consistent playing partner, but he still hasn't reached the level of tennis coach-dom =P

After the match, and afterdeciding to joing the league for the rest of the season, we went for a celebratory Dunkin Donuts breakfast and returned to Robbie Wagner's just in time for my tennis lesson.

My new coach validated everything I thought about my playing - I have a lot of power and speed, but I'm still too hesitant on shots that I need to be hitting with more certainty. My comfort zone is at the baseline, as far from the net as possible.

I think I impressed him, which made me smile, but even more gratifying, I impressed myself.

It was a morning of tennis that I can only wait to do all over again next week.

us open champions '08

I let my racket do the talking. That's what I am all about, really. I just go out and win tennis matches.
- Pete Sampras

If you think about it, there are a lot more professional tennis players out there than we, the public, really realize. That's probably largely because a small percentage of that group accounts for most of the major wins and titles. And so, understandably, you here about them on the news and not the others. We've also found that it helps your celebrity athlete life a good deal if you're even just semi-good looking...even if you're on-court skills aren't the most impressive. (I won't mention any names, but you already know.)

The reason I bring it up is because it's always interesting to me that the Open starts with 128 eager, hopeful, determined tennis players all vying for the top spots, but as the days go by, that number quickly diminishes. And soon it feels like Thanksgiving evening all over again, when all the extended family members and friends you haven't seen all year and who you kind of forgot their names start leaving the house, and you're once again left with those closest to you. Nadal. Jankovic. Djokovic. Roddick. Williams. Federer.

And so it should come as not too much of a surprise to find that the 2008 US Open champions are Roger Federer and Serena Williams.

Sunday night, Williams and Jelena Jankovic traded forehands and fired off winners in two sets filled to the brim with exciting moments and amazing, this-is-why-you-watch-tennis rallies. At no point (until maybe toward the end) was a winner certain, and both players knew it. But, the match had to end, and it did, with Serena victorious at 6-4, 7-5.

Then on Monday (remember, there was that Saturday rain delay) Roger Federer faced off against a young, still-high-from-his-Nadal-win Andy Murray. To be completely honest, I didn't see the match. (Say it isn't so!!) It started at 5 PM, and I was already on a train to the city for my acting on-film class. But when I got home and checked out the score, it was nothing unexpected, but still, I was happy that, after a rough year, Federer got the US Open title he's been dreaming about (his excited on-court behavior would imply) for the past two weeks. Final: 6-2, 7-5, 6-2.

So were the final acts of the Open surprising? No.

Were they entertaining? Most definitely.

And in the end, really, that's what it's all about.

As for me, I have a match of my own next week I have to go prepare for...

nadal vs. murray...part II

Tennis is not a gentle game. Psychologically, it is vicious. That people are only just beginning to come to terms with this fact illustrates just how big a con trick has been perpetrated on the non-playing tennis public - and even a few players, usually losing players - for decades.
- Richard Evans

Yesterday, Roger Federer held off Tropical Storm Hanna long enough to defeat Novak Djokovic (the winner of our "who's going to win it all" poll) 6-3, 5-7, 7-5, 6-2.

And Rafael Nadal and Andy Murray (along with their fans) hoped to do the same. So much so, in fact, that tennis officials set them up on Louis Armstrong Stadium, the former main stage of the Open and now second to Arthur Ashe.

Saturday's humidity, and possibly the unfamiliarity of playing on Armstrong, suggests McEnroe, didn't help Nadal's game in the least. In the first set alone, Murray practically brushed him off the court, winning a confident 6-2 game. Nadal looked shaken, his nerves rattled and his usual exuberance all but wiped out. Maybe Beijing jet lag had finally caught up to him? Maybe that gold medal he won a few weeks ago wasn't in the mood to be trumped by a giant silver cup?

Then Murray - the young Brit whose childhood conversation with fellow junior player Nadal years ago gave his mom the idea to move to Spain to train her son - won the tiebreak in the second set to go up two sets to none.

Finally, in the third set, Nadal went up a break 3-2 when, sure enough, play was suspended due to rain.

Imagine the sleepless night!!

And then today came, and we found ourselves on Arthur Ashe this time for the finale of this extended semifinal. Nadal came, too, sans humidity and smaller court, but still very much battling Murray's calculated play and solid winners.

Nadal took the third set, giving the crowd a moment's relief when they realized they hadn't come all the way back out to Flushing Meadows only to see a thirty-minute match.

But in the end, Murray prevailed, knocking out the men's top-seeded player by taking the fourth set and the match 6-2, 7-6 (5), 4-6, 6-4.

There's always next year, Nadal. At least you have that gold medal you can knock off your to-do list...at least for the next four years.

Federer and Murray face off tomorrow for the championship. Considering the fact that Federer has performed somewhat less than excellent this year (which isn't bad at all for most people's standards, but not very good for a player of his caliber), and he really (really, really) seems to want this title (did I mention all the celebratory jumping he's been doing throughout this tournament after the matches he wins?), I think I'd like to see Federer take this one. There's always the next Slam, Murray, always the next one.

Now we wait for the women's final at 9 PM between Serena Williams and Jelena Jankovic...

center court drama

The serve was invented so that the net could play.
- Bill Cosby

Okay, so my Mardy Fish-inspired optimism last night didn't last for too long after I signed off and settled in for a late night of tennis. But I did say they would finish it in four...only Nadal was the one coming out of it victorious.

Nerves got the best of Fish, that much was clear. There was a lot of scowling, head shaking, head hitting with fists (only saw it once, but it made you wince), and even spitting at the racquet (proceeded by smashing said racquet into the ground). After he lost the second and third sets, it seemed to spiral downward for him from there.

Note to self: The difference between a champion and an almost-champion is nerves, nerves, nerves. Get a hold of yourself, and you'll get yourself to the finish line, or at least give yourself a fighting chance.

After all, Nadal did lose the first set rather decidedly, but he quickly recovered to take the next three and secure his spot in the semis. Final score: Nadal wins 3-6, 6-1, 6-4, 6-2.

Today, Roger Federer took on qualifier Gilles Muller in a heated quarterfinal match of their own. Even though it was only three sets, it was a tight, hard-fought, well-played match. Final score: Federer wins 5-6 (5), 6-4, 7-6 (5) and continues on the road to take back his spot at number one from Nadal.

Then night fell, and things got a little weird.

Under the Open lights, Novak Djokovic took on the crowd favorite Andy Roddick (whose only win here to date was in 2003). The mood was already tense following the comments Roddick made at a press conference, seemingly in jest, about the injuries/problems/ailments that Djokovic has suffered throughout the tournament. They were, I have to confess, rather humorous, said a few days ago by a tired Roddick to a bunch of reporters in a serious, deadpan voice. In addition to what the reporter said, as part of a question (that no one remembers) regarding Roddick's feelings about going into a match with a player like Djokovic who was clearly having issues, Roddick added on that he also had anthrax, bird flu, SARS, a common cold, etc. - all in all, a total of "16 injuries." Anyone watching must have known he was kidding. But it was the comment that followed that wasn't so funny and might have been speaking of Roddick's actual feelings about Djokovic's recent multiple trainer calls while on court: "He's either quick to call the trainer, or he's the most courageous guy of all time. I think it's up for you guys to decide."

See? Not as funny as the bird flu comment. Turns out, Djokovic didn't think so either.

Back to tonight's match, Djokovic was cruising for a relatively easy win, up until the third set...when he lost it. The match continued to get tense with Roddick having racquet abuse issues again and Djokovic staring down (and, once or twice, shouting down) rowdy Roddick fans. The fourth set ended in a tiebreak and eventual victory for Djokovic, who got himself a ticket to duke it out with Federer in the semifinals. Final score: 6-2, 6-3, 3-6, 7-6 (5)

Here's where it gets awkward. Both players shake hands, the crowd is cheering, they shake hands with the ump. So far so good.

Okay, now, here's a question: You're playing a quarterfinal night match. You're the crowd favorite. You just lost, but it's late, and the crowd has sat through it all to, we can assume, see you play. Do you finish the match, pack up your racquets, give a brief wave, and skedaddle off the court quicker than those 9-year-olds can get out their Sharpies and giant Wilson tennis balls for you to sign? Well, you do if you're Andy Roddick. Not too cool, in my opinion.

Then, in his on-court interview, Djokovic proceeds to make comments about Roddick (and his own comments) and about what he assumes the crowd thinks of him (Djokovic) about his injuries, mainly, that he's faking.

Now you tell me what you think happens next. Boos erupt from the audience, and not just once either, but several times. And I like Djokovic, so it was especially difficult. You just wanted to say, "Shut up, Djokovic. Say thank you to the crowd, follow up with something funny, sign autographs, and skedaddle off the court like Roddick."

Eventually, he did, and John McEnroe reminded the viewers at home that he, too, drew boos from the crowds on a couple of occasions during his playing days. But still, it was a rough, kind of awkward note to end on for a quarterfinal evening of tennis.

So let's forget about it, move on, and look forward to an entertaining match between Federer and Djokovic. My bets (and we know how good those have been so far) are on Federer. Plus, he really looks like he wants it this year. I've seen Federer do more jumping after points in this tournament than I think I've ever seen him jump up until this point ever.

And for some interesting US Open trivia that involves a certain Fish and Roddick and their temperamental racquet issues, check out this interesting TENNIS Magazine article about racquets and the beatings they have taken in the past two weeks -

http://www.tennis.com/news/news.aspx?id=144270

quarterfinal marathon

A perfect combination of violent action taking place in an atmosphere of total tranquility.
- Billie Jean King, about tennis

It's almost midnight, and Rafael Nadal, the number one seed, and Mardy Fish, unseeded, just started playing about 15 minutes ago. What's even more incredible, perhaps, is that Fish has already broken Nadal and is up 3 to 1 in the first set.

To rewind for a moment, earlier today (what seems like an infinity ago at this point) sixth-seeded Dinara Safina of Russia made rather easy work of No. 16 Flavia Pennetta of Italy, 6-2, 6-3. Then, Andy Murray of Britain took on Juan Martin del Potro of Argentina in their own quarterfinal battle. Murray took the first two sets in tiebreaks, del Potro the third at 6-4, and then, both players suffering from some serious fatigue, it ended in the fourth set when Murray overtook Del Potro 7-5. All that took almost four hours. The players were tired, we were slightly tired, the linesmen were probably achy, but how could you relax knowing what was to come on the court.

Serena Williams vs. big sister Venus. Now for everyone bemoaning the fact that these two had to meet in the quarterfinals and not the finals, quit your moaning. It's the luck of the draw. The only thing that would seriously prevent that from happening (a meeting two rounds before the final) is if they were seeded 1 and 2, forcing them to be in opposite halves of the draw. But as it turns out, Venus is seeded seventh and Serena is seeded fourth. So voila, you get a quarterfinal match.

And to be honest, I wasn't much looking forward to the audio on this one. Their screaming grates across my ear drums, and I start wondering if maybe, just maybe, I can improve my serve if I start screaming whenever I go to do one. Powerful screams, powerful girls...I guess.

But the visuals were pretty cool. They were pretty evenly matched. The scores say it all: 7-6. 7-6. Serena moves on to the semifinals. What? Only two sets? Yeah, and there in is the disappointing part. There should've been a third set. Serena came from behind not once but twice, and Venus wasted not one, not two, not three, but eight+ set points!! And they weren't the most demanding of shots either, it came down to a mishit overhead here and a volley hit long there. At one point, I kid you not, I let out a yelp, still light decibals away from the anguished screams coming from both Serena and Venus. The end of the match left you feeling like it was more a mental battle we witnessed end in defeat rather than just a friendly sister rivalry.

Meanwhile, my little sister comes into my room to tell me that if we ever meet in the Open, she'll let me win. Thanks for the thought, I say, but the crowd doesn't pay upwards of a chunk of change to watch us be nice to each other. Tennis is made of rivalries, and who's more of a rival than your own sister?

So then here we are. 12:15 now. (It took you that long to write this post? Yes. Things move slow when you're watching the Open.) Mardy Fish has taken the first set 6-3.

But I do like Nadal. I like his capris and willingness to go for every shot and excitement for even the most trivial of forehand winners, even if the odds seems stacked against him, which is seldom these days. But Mardy Fish is unseeded and the underdog here. And Nadal has already won some Slams of his own. A win here for Fish would put him one round closer to his first Slam...which is pretty cool...which is kind of what I want to do one day.

Makes me think there's a name missing from my "Who's Going to Win" blog poll over there, on the side, to the right, of the text, that you're now, currently, reading. (See it yet?)

Let's see...Fish in four, dare I say?

the opening serve

Tennis belongs to the individualistic past - a hero, or at most a pair of friends or lovers, against the world.
- Jacques Barzun

The last two weeks of August belong to the US Open.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I grew up playing tennis at the USTA National Tennis Center (now with the added "Billie Jean King"), one of the country's premier tennis facilities and home of the Open, arguable the most exciting of the sport's four Grand Slams. And when I wasn't playing there, I was comforted knowing that it was only a short half-hour drive away, in case I ever needed it.

For those of you who know me, you know that writing and all things creative are my foremost passions. But right up there, since as far back as I can remember, is tennis.

So as I ventured out to Flushing Meadows last week with Alex and my mom, carrying my US Open cinch sack heavy with Blimpie sandwiches, chips, and water bottles, and I began to get those familiar why-am-I-not-a-professional-tennis-player feelings of unsettlement, it occurred to me that for someone who claims to be such an ardent tennis enthusiast, I don't talk much about it. Then when we watched top-seeded players like Novak Djokovic, Jelena Jankovic, and Nikolay Davydenko easily dismiss their opponents, it really began to dawn on me, I haven't played much lately either.

And so I've finally decided to do something about it.

Here then I bring to you a blog that, hopefully, will truly capture my love and respect for a game that I've been fortunate to have with me all my life. In it, I'll talk about the players, the tournaments, the Slams, the stories, the gear, the people that make it all happen.

Oh, and I thought it might also be interesting to chronicle the very unlikely tale of a 24-year-old writer, editor, and graduate film student who is finally going to attempt to play professionally.

Crazy? Never been done before? Too old to start?

Perhaps, but I won't be sure unless I try. My brand new coach starts lessons with me in four weeks. Of course, he doesn't yet know about my dreams of glory, but I think I'll save that bit of information until after we both see how rusty my serve is and how quickly I can improve it.

With that said, let's get this blog underway...