Finishing First

Do you ever wish you could go back in time to a certain day? If you could go back and change a few things or relive one special day, which would you choose? Today is Groundhog Day. Bill Murray’s classic film of the same name is about re-doing the same day over and over until you get it right. All of us probably have a handful of days we wish we could finish differently. Since this is a sports-themed blog, I’ll talk about the one day I wish I could get back as an athlete. I am pretty sure this day left a shadow on my tennis game forever.
It was August of my senior year in high school and the first time I was ever slated at first singles. The season had yet to begin. Our first preseason exhibition match was scheduled before school even started. Every year since I could remember, I dreamed of playing number one. This was my first crack at it, and I was anything but nervous. After all, I had prepared for this my entire high school career. I placed a brand new blue grip on my Wilson Pro Staff 98. My mom ironed my shirt and washed and pressed my shorts the night before the match. I remember stepping out onto the top court and thinking this is exactly where I belong. It’s where I want to be. I had played on this court so many times you could probably see my sneaker marks. I knew how the ball bounced at specific spots. I knew where the hidden cracks unexpectedly kicked up the ball when irritated. Court one was used in practice as the ball machine court. I practiced and perfected my groundstrokes for hours on court one. At times, I felt more at home on that court than if I were in my own bedroom.
My over exuberant coach announced the lineup as we snacked on apples and bagels on the bleachers. She proudly named be at number one and encouraged me to lead the team in our ritual pre-match prayer. If I could go back to that moment, I would have tried harder to encourage my teammates. I would have tried to make them believe in themselves as players. Too often, I think the role of leader gets lost on top players. They do not think about the bottom of the ladder. I know what it’s like to work your way up on a team. I could have at least cheered them on and rallied them with more enthusiasm. Coach informed me I was playing against a freshman. Piece of cake, I figured. I was four years older and obviously had more high school experience than some fresh-faced student who hadn’t stepped foot in high school yet. You know where this is going. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
My opponent barely greeted me as I opened a new can of tennis balls. In fact, she didn’t even introduce herself. If she smiled the entire match it was only because the sun was in her eyes and caused a squinting grin. The zero personality freshman’s parents were the most obnoxious creatures within a 30 mile radius of court one. They set up shop directly behind me and literally kept giving me dirty looks. After our warm-ups, we started to play. I served first, and won the first game with relative ease. If I could go back to that day, perhaps I would have looked those two nasty parents directly in the eye and just smiled. Nah that really is not my style. My opponent soon took over the match, controlling me with her smooth serves and wicked winners down the line. I was gasping for air by the fourth game and down on myself after letting her break me. I won just one game the first set. My opponent was quick to turn the scorecard in her favor after each game. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl move so rapidly to a number than her that day. It was like she was on the clock, trying to dust me off in record time.
It turns out, she came pretty close to sweeping me off my home court in efficient fashion. I lost the second set 6-0. Just like that, my first shot at first singles was over. I felt like it barely started. She didn’t break a sweat, but her parents sure did after I took a 1-0 lead. I listened to my opponent cough up some excuse as to why she dropped the first game. From that point on, every time I hit the ball into the net, her parents cheered wildly. It was like a game to them. I learned a lot about myself that day. You can’t win them all, sure. But I already knew that. I learned that there are always going to be people players than you, even if they aren’t better human beings. Here I was in my senior year with so many memorable and great wins under my belt. I was ready for the next level. It was just my luck, that initial chance at the next level came against the player who would go on to win more than one division crown and make the state championship look like a cakewalk. After the match, I was consoled by my parents. They thought the world of me despite my dismal performance. Maybe that was the most valuable lesson from the day. No matter what happens, your parents still seem to find a way to make it better. They still love you even if you lose to a grouchy, pouty freshman. If I could go back, I would. I would relive the most humiliating match of my life. I would tell her my opponent she was the better player. I would tell her she was so talented and had so much potential. Years from now, people would be talking about her tennis I might add.
It is years later. I know for a fact my opponent that August day never went on to play at the next level. She got involved with the wrong people and ran into quite some trouble throughout the rest of her high school years. It’s a shame really. I doubt anything I could have said to her that day would have altered her path and the choices she made down the road. But who’s to say it wouldn’t have? Who’s to say that even in defeat, you can change someone’s life or even just make them think twice? I remember crushing other girls 6-0, 6-0 and then being told how awesome I was. It drove me harder and meant everything, even if they were not as skillful as me. I wonder if the girls I clobbered felt as miserably horrible as I did that day. It’s funny to think how many different ways different people remember you.
It’s incredible how I actually gave myself a chance in that preseason scrimmage. I now know she was the best player in the area. I know she could have beaten me on my best day. She knew that too. I wonder if her parents affected how she acted. I wonder if they hadn’t been at that match, would she have at least smiled? If her parents weren’t so involved in her tennis, would she still be swinging a racquet today? Here I am and this game still takes my breath away. I play because it’s what I do and what I love. She didn’t seem like she loved the game. I still sit around on August days and toss a tennis ball around my yard just for fun. Pleasant signals dance around in my head when I open a new can of tennis balls. I still go back to my high school. I only go because there are six tennis courts there that can fill a void nothing else in this world can fill. I’m thankful my parents are the way they are. I’m thankful I have had the opportunity to share the game I love with the people I love. Most of all, I am glad I got my first chance at the top. I didn’t finish the way I would have liked to, but I’m not sure I would change the ending after all. Finishing first isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Many times it’s not how you finish but how you got there that means the most.

Parting Points: “There is no way that this winter is ever going to end as long as this groundhog keeps seeing his shadow. I don't see any other way out. He's got to be stopped. And I have to stop him.”- Groundhog Day