When I was a young, I was totally a baseball kid. Baseball was my main sport, I wanted to be a professional baseball player, and I couldn't think of playing any other sports besides baseball. I had my mind set, and back then, I thought it couldn't be changed. Therefore, when my dad forced me to play tennis with him, I was not even the least bit excited.
My dad had always liked to play tennis, and really thought that I would like it, too. After a month of him nagging me about playing, I finally gave in just so I wouldn't go insane. When I first stepped on the tennis court, with my tiny yellow tennis racket my dad gave me for Hanukkah, everything felt wrong. There was no grass or dirt below me, and there was nothing wrapping around my left hand. When my dad fed me my first ball, I completely whiffed. I had pretty much given up on tennis all together after this shot.
I was ready to walk off the tennis court, but my dad said take one more shot and if I still want to leave, then I can. He fed me the ball and, using my childish terrible form, somehow managed to get the ball over the net. I did not know why, but it was the most exhilarating moment of my life. I told my dad I would stay, and he fed me balls for the next two hours. I had more fun that day than I had in any baseball game ever, and that was the day I knew that I would be playing tennis for a very long time.
I have been playing tennis ever since then and now, I am hoping to make varsity. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if my dad didn't push me to take one more try at hitting a ball. I probably would have never played tennis again, and I wouldn't have been able to feel the intense joy of a competitive tennis match. It just goes to show that sometimes people need a little push to figure something out about themselves.
No comments:
Post a Comment