The Tennis Injury

Sometimes, tennis can hurt. I wrenched my ankle last year. I had to retire early from my match, also. Something a serious tennis player never likes to do. I was unable to play for nearly a month. I shuffled around my apartment limping and stumbling. Wanting to get back out there, wanting to play, knowing my body just needed a break. My mind kept right on playing, never losing that consistent familiarity of roaming a tennis court. I played points in my head, and watched tennis on television. I drove myself crazy wanting to get back out there.

The Harlem Tennis Center

Aurthur Ashe made the Harlem Tennis Center famous. The world's first legitimate African-American tennis star taught clinics here. It's a gritty, no frills tennis club with tight, remodeled courts that play well. The old timers talk of distant days when conditions were not so good. Tennis used to have a rough element at the Harlem Tennis Center. Today, This tennis club has become one of the most economical places to play tennis in the city, a true gem for tennis players looking for indoor play. Tennis in Harlem has come a long way.

Changing the Momentum

 I stop on the tennis court. I just take a break. When things aren't going so well, I put on the brakes, taking a look around. I work on altering momentum and challenging the pace. I make my opponent start thinking about things, letting those demons venture into the head. Will momentum slip? I stop on the tennis court, my tennis match caught in traffic. The momentum will change, hopefully.

Sweeping the Courts

The work crew in Central Park drag their tennis courts in the middle of the day. The manmade clay becomes rough and scraggly after a big morning of play. They sweep twelve courts at noon, and then the second twelve at one. A parks employee drives a golf court in circles, kind of like the Zamboni driver at the ice rink. Only in Central Park, they drive a golf cart around twelve tennis courts, pulling a large, metal screen behind. Sweeping the tennis courts back into shape. Now an aggressive player will move onto the courts directly after this sweeping, first come, first serve, literally. An aggressive tennis player usually achieves about fifteen minutes of extra play. 

The Little Pink Flower

Sometimes, when I play tennis with my lover, she puts on her flower. It's just a small, little pink flower with a pin on the backside. She attaches it to her tennis outfit. She wears this small, pink flower just for me. She's so adorable. That small, pink flower bounces around the tennis court with my lover attached. My eyes follow, while I struggle with actually playing tennis. I love that little pink flower.

Mentally Cooked on the Tennis Court

Steam rises on the tennis court. I'm locked in a real tight match with Bob. One of those matches where I seem to win the majority of the points, just not the important ones. Subsequently, I'm losing. The heat is definitely getting to me, well at least the humidity anyway. Between points I wipe my brow with a towel, removing sweat from my soaking forehead. The sweat continues to come and begins to run into my eyes burning and blurring my vision. I put on a headband, which supposedly absorbs the sweat, but not in my case. In fact, I don't think the headband absorbs anything. It just sticks on my forehead, feeling like a soggy hot dog bun would probably feel. I become annoyed, the heat is really getting to me now. I feel things slipping. I'm unable to overcome the elements. I deserve to lose. 

Control

I see the angles. The rectangle court flows into my eyes with confidence. I see where the ball needs to be. I move my feet, prepare, and smack the little, yellow ball. I take a little bit off, not hitting the ball as hard as usual, creating more control in my shot. Control remains very important in the game of tennis. Control mirrors composure, which often represents success.  

Some Days

I get beat all the time. Some days, it doesn't matter who I'm facing on the tennis court. Some days, the only foe that I have on the tennis court is myself. These are the worst days. There's nothing worse than consistently tripping over myself, wallowing in my mistakes. Some days, I just don't move well to the ball. Much of tennis is really preparation. Some days, my limbs and feet just don't work. Some days, I run around the tennis court like a "big blob of flesh." I'm unable to command even my most basic instincts.

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Tennis Off Balance

Sometimes, it's best not to reveal yourself too quickly on the tennis court. Sometimes, it's best to be a little bit mysterious. Sometimes, it's best to stay back and rally, rather than attack. Keeping an opponent off balance can turn the tables in your favor. A good strategy can be masked in your game, your pace, and how you address the ball. Give your opponent a different side of your competitive composition. Lure your opponent into a false sense of understanding. When they think they have you figured, switch your game and present a new strategy. If an opponent doesn't feel comfortable on the tennis court, chances are they are not going to play well. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

The New York Tennis Club

Sometimes, I head to the far north Bronx to play doubles. The New York Tennis Club remains the oldest tennis club in New York City. Originally, the club was located in Manhattan. Now relocated, we drive and drive until arriving at a very cute, small tennis sanctuary, with just several indoor courts. The clubhouse feels like a mobile home, tight and cramped, without any frills. Four tennis players in a the locker room represent a packed house. But the club is immaculate and the ownership seems to be a tight, family run business. They create a very nice environment for tennis. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Sutton Place

Sutton Place tennis courts are covered with a white bubble in the winter. A white balloon blocks the cold and wind and general unsavory winter conditions. This white balloon slowly turns brown, the result of sitting so close to the FDR highway collecting smog and exhaust. By the end of winter, many players have a hard time seeing the tennis ball because this smog collected on the bubble actually darkens the tennis courts. The grime impedes their vision. Poor lighting and automobile pollution shouldn't have an affect on a tennis match. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Traveling for Tennis

Sometimes, playing tennis has nothing to do with tennis. I live downtown, on the east side, so traveling to the courts really isn't that easy. Usually, I take the Broadway line and then switch to the B or sometimes the C train at 59th street. I carry my tennis bag with everything I need for a match. I ride the subway and watch the people around me. I see them looking at my tennis bag with envy. Undoubtedly wishing they weren't working, or on their way to work, or just wishing they could just do something fun, like play tennis. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Holding Serve

Just win the service game. If I can just take care of my serve, everything else usually falls into place. A great deal of pressure lands on an opponent that can't break me. I apply pressure by holding serve, keeping the match on my terms. Frustration will eventually set, and then the set will set, and then the match will set. And then hopefully, there's a beautiful sunset. And then hopefully, I can wake tomorrow and do the same thing all over again.

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Distant Neighbors

Sometimes, after playing tennis on Roosevelt Island, I go next door to the hospital and visit George. I think that I'm the only one. George just wants out of there and they won't let him. He's losing his mind, and for good reason. That hospital's awful. Funny how the tennis courts and the hospital lay in such close proximity out on Roosevelt Island. Two different worlds sitting side by side. The great game of tennis sits so close to the sorrow of so many in that miserable hospital. Two very different worlds, just a few steps from each other, yet a million miles apart. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Doubles and Central Park Theory

Doubles in Central Park means I can play for two hours instead of one. Because I have four people on a court, I can sign up for two consecutive hours of play. I can play twice as long as I would in singles. But, I have to remember that because I have a partner, theoretically, I only hit half the shots in a match. This means that in a two hour doubles match, I should, theoretically, hit the same amount of tennis balls that I would in a one hour singles match. Obviously, this is all based upon theory, and subject to the level of play my partner and I demonstrate. For example, if I hit every shot into the net, the other team is likely to continue to hit the tennis ball in my direction. Thus, I may hit more tennis balls, but not very well. So much for theory. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

The Old Guys in Central Park

Some of the "old guys" who play tennis in Central Park are amazing. I must say, there are quite a few "older gentleman." This makes sense. Young people are at work, busting their butts to make a few dollars for survival in this town. Many older people have already done their work and are leisurely playing tennis in Central Park. During the day, you can smell the "Ben-Gay" in the air. Old joints and bones and general problems, all involving athletics and age. Everyone wears some sort of brace, holding limbs together, keeping it tight. Age and tennis are a tough one. Let's face it, this game takes a pounding on the body after a while. But everyday, I see many of the same "older faces," with ointments and braces and whatnot. They pull themselves together and play some tennis. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Mind and Body

Sometimes the game just slows for me. I can literally see the writing on the tennis ball, whether it says Wilson or Penn. My feet jump towards their intended target. After all, successful tennis always stems from preparation. My mind instinctively prepares my body to react, and my feet are part of my body. Sometimes this instinct fails. Instincts can be tricky, especially in tennis. There always seems to be a period where my mind tells my body, and my body then tells my feet to react, and nothing happens. My mind fails my body, and my body fails my mind, and my feet never move, and I usually lose the point, and eventually the match. This happens to me on a regular basis.

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Serve and Volley Man

I'm a serve and volley man, an attacker on the tennis court. Serve and come in, attack, attack, attack. That's my game and always has been. I come after you. I become as aggressive as I possibly can. I hit the ball hard and drive towards the net. Sometimes, I have problems on the soft tennis courts in Central Park. While I enjoy these courts, the slowness doesn't naturally suit my game. The man made clay negates some of my power, which makes things more difficult. However, the man made clay is much easier on my knees and joints. The pounding of running on asphalt courts takes a toll. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Tennis Fitting into a Rhythm

I was playing tennis in Prospect Park. I had never played a tennis player like this before. Steve wore large headphones, blaring his music. I could hear the sounds on my side of the court. He thrashed his head in unison with the beat. The better the song, the better his game. Tennis fit into a rhythm and music dictated play.  My role as an opponent seemed meaningless. Only the music mattered. He hit that little, yellow ball with harmony and chords and different songs. Tennis became a live concert. From within this concert arose a complete tennis game. Steve beat me in straight sets, blaring his music and rocking me all the way back to Manhattan.

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Trolling for a Game

I'm in Central Park looking for some tennis. Usually, I would plan to meet another player for a match. But today, I decide that I will just "show up," and find some competition. So, I put my name on the "no show list" and sit court side, trolling for a game. I never know what I'm going to get. Sometimes, I find a player of a different playing level, which isn't that great. But sometimes, I find that perfect player. A player that has an answer for my shots and who has strengths where I have weakness. I find a match split evenly down the middle. A match where I'm forced to dig deep within myself for answers. Nothing beats a tight tennis match.

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

The Comeback

There's nothing better than a comeback. Just the other day, I was down a set and playing terribly. I smacked that little, yellow ball into the net, into the back fence, far left, far right. I hit that ball everywhere except where I wanted, inside the lines. There was no pace, no rhythm to my game, and absolutely zero, cerebral orchestration of events. My match was a disaster. And then I just settled down and relaxed. I took some deep breaths and quit trying so hard. And then things just fell into place. Suddenly, the tennis ball actually landed where I was aiming. The points added up,  and the next thing I know, I had come back and won the match. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

The Ball Machine

So I'm out on Roosevelt Island one morning, out for the "Early Bird Special." I'm really just hoping to hit with a ball machine. I want to work on my tennis game, a little, and get a nice workout. There's something about the rhythm of a ball machine shooting tennis balls. A big gun shooting little, yellow balls at the same spots over and over. And then I swing my composite racquet and connect. Snapping that poor little ball back towards the big gun. And then it shoots back at me another little, yellow ball. And then I again crack my composite racquet, sending that little, yellow ball sailing. Over and over the motions continue, while I try and develop some consistency, with a nice sweat. It just feels so good to hit that little, yellow ball. What's wrong with me?

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

A Small Wager Between Friends

I don't consider myself a professional tennis player, although sometimes I do gamble. I'm not a big money guy, so there's only so much that I'm willing to let slide on a tennis match. But sometimes, I subscribe to a small wager between friends, to heighten the flavor of competition. Playing for money can change things, drastically. The game just becomes much more serious. Not necessarily worse, or better, but just different. I consider myself a decent money player. I try and stay calm under pressure, no matter what's riding on the outcome. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Tennis Ants and the US. Open

One of the best places to play a tennis match happens to be the National Tennis Center. These public courts are pristine and fun to play. It's somewhat of a haul taking the subway out to Queens, but the facility happens to be one of the best. They host the US. Open tournament every year, the pinnacle for New York City tennis seekers. I like the very beginning of the tournament best, when many matches are happening simultaneously. The crowd gravitates around the grounds, like ants. Searching for the next close match and then gathering. Whispers and murmurs trickle through the grounds, with any hint of an upset, or five set marathon. Tennis ants mill around the grounds gathering tennis, working the place like a giant ant hill. And then the tournament ends and the facility again becomes public domain. The ants continue to scramble though, seeking the next great tennis match.

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Sunday Mayhem and the Fight for a Court

Sunday can be a nightmare on the tennis court in New York City, especially in Central Park. The weekend warriors come out early, every kind of person that can be imagined. From all over the world they land in Central Park on any given Sunday morning, fighting for a court to play tennis. I rarely play on Sunday because of this mess, although sometimes I put myself into the mayhem. Landing a court takes patience and skill. Sometimes the wait can be hours. All of this makes people more than a little cranky. New York City tennis can be tough.  

The Cerebral and Seasoned Tennis Player

When I was younger, I had a big serve. I remember just blowing the ball by people. I would hit and follow, lumbering towards the net, trying not to trip over myself. I was a big, gangly kid, without much coordination. I matured well after any kind of career, or scholarship, was there for me. But I could hit the ball hard, and not much else. I wore my emotions on my sleeve, easily distracted and emotionally thin. I had nerves of glass, which cracked, splintered and disintegrated with even the slightest jolt. All of which added up to a pretty mediocre career as a junior tennis player, thank God. Any visions of grandeur were chucked out the window early, like most kids I think. Now I'm a different player. All grown up and looking for a good match. I won't blow anybody off of the court, but I'm tougher now. My nerves don't shatter so easily. I'm more cerebral and seasoned. I understand how to control rhythm and pace, the ebb and flow. I understand how to think through my points, so that I can win my tennis match.

Controlling the Point

Sometimes, I have to mix it up. I just can't play the same point over and over. I try and change the pace of the ball. I hit with more topspin and then throw in a slice. I move the ball around. I try and maneuver the ball, becoming more cerebral in play. I think through my points before they happen. It can be done. I move the ball around. I move my feet. I see my movements before they actually occur. And then I put the ball away, an overhead smash, well hit and out of my opponents reach. Sometimes, I mix it up, changing my positions and tactics. Never becoming complacent, focusing on a high level of execution. Sometimes, I hit the ball into the net, anyway. 

Perfect Tennis with Bob

I met Bob by chance, really. I was looking for a tennis match one day, trolling for a game by the Central Park tennis courts. Bob's a real player. He beats me on a regular basis. I have to play perfect tennis to win. He picks me apart from the baseline, while I continue to attack. Eventually, he puts too much pressure on me, and then I, in turn, put too much pressure on myself. The result is obviously a collapse, and I lose. We have very different styles of play, and very close matches. Bob's only downfall is that he doesn't handle adversity well. He also doesn't like distractions, such as movement around his vision, especially while serving. This can be rough on busy city courts, especially in Central Park. Sometimes, he'll become caught in these distractions, and then I take him. 

We Fell In Love Through Tennis

We fell in love through tennis. I don't mean this in a shallow way. Tennis is after all, "a game," or so I keep telling myself. I met my lover in the art gallery, over espresso and a conversation about what, I cannot remember. Her vibrancy overwhelmed our conversation. This meeting then led to an invitation to play tennis, and the rest is history. Her apartment sits adjacent to the tennis courts in Central Park. The Central Park tennis complex is over a hundred years old, having initially been a sight for lawn tennis in the late 1800's. She's a tennis junkie too, just not as fanatical as myself. 

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Letting Loose

Sometimes, I'm just not competitive. Sometimes, I just want to hit the little, yellow ball without the confines of a game, or a match, or points won and points lost. I just want some freedom to let go, and not really worry if the ball lands in or out. I want to unleash the discipline in my game, let  loose and just hit the ball without consequence.  

Watch the latest videos on YouTube.com

Tennis with My Lover

I like to play tennis with my lover. She's so sexy hitting the tennis ball. Her curves are perfect, and the way she addresses the ball, with that tint of aggression, makes me dizzy. The chemistry of her womanhood drifts across the net into my nostrils. I can literally smell her from the other side of the court. We just rally for fun, without any competition, and I love to play tennis with her. Last summer we went to Newport for the Fourth of July. We dressed in our tennis whites and played on a grass tennis court, which smelled of natural flavors of earth and grass, with velvet softness underneath the feet. Hard courts, and even clay, have noise made from sliding sneakers, not produced on grass courts, something I never realized until I actually played on grass. Playing with my lover, with great smells and our tennis whites was truly fantastic.