Tennis Menace

by Tonia

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

My granddaughter started taking tennis lessons this summer. Watching her brought back fond memories of my own tennis attempts in childhood. So I decided – what the hell – I like raising a racket – I should take it up again. Never mind that I’m 61 years old, uncoordinated and out of shape.

So, my first attempt was with Rachel (daughter) who also hasn’t played in years. Her first words to me were to take it easy - she didn’t want me to fall and break a hip because she’d have to take care of me the rest of my life. Grrrrrr ….. I raised brats.

This is what it looked like: both of us chasing balls on our court, on other courts, over the fence, in the parking lot and down the street. And this is what it sounded like:

-- “F**k!”

-- “S**t!”

-- “God d****t!”

Along with:

-- “Where’s the ball?”

-- “Just kidding!”

-- “Was that your Protect-My-Boobs shot?”

-- “Do you do all your own stunts?”

The grandkids went with us but, after a short time, they both hid in the car - they didn’t want their friends to see them with us. I didn't come home with tennis elbow – I came home with tennis body.

My next attempt was with the boyfriend where Love means nothing. Trying to look cute and sexy, I ran up on the ball to smack it and *WHACK!* it bounced off my forehead and took my hat with it. My stupefied look was not …. well …. sexy.

But, never one to give up just because I should, I have continued to play with some girlfriends (where looking stupefied is well accepted). The last time we played I ran to make a shot, knocked over the ball hopper and sent 70 balls into the neighboring court where GOOD players were playing. Yes, it was epic.

So, for some great exercise, lots of laughs and LOTS of personal growth in frustration tolerance, take some girlfriends to play tennis. Then go get a drink – or four.