For The Love Of Tennis

SMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK!!

“OUT! 7-6! Game and set to Yano, Yurie!” The commentator yelled into the microphone, shaking the entire stadium.

“YES!” I screamed, punching the air with clenched fists. Raising my hands, I ran around the court as the spectators went wild. Finally, after a long and grueling two hours on the court, I, Yurie Yano, had beaten the past year ranked number 1 in the finals of the ‘World Junior Open’ Tennis Tournament. I glanced over at my beaten opponent. Losing by an extremely close margin, she doubled over on the floor, clearly in tears. I had taken over her place for the world number 1 female tennis player, heavily backed up with a perfect score of all wins and zero losses.

I turned to the stands, and my supporters went all the more hysterical, screaming, jumping, and waving my country’s flag and the like of flags. My chest heaved with pride.

I ran over to the VIP seats where my coach and my family sat. As I approached, my brother-cum-coach greeted me with a bone-crushing hug, and a warm applause.

“You did it! And it was your first competition, too!” He ruffled my hair as a father would a child.

“Yeah! But that girl there was really good too!” I thrust my racket into his outstretched arms and turned, waiting to be pulled into the embrace of my parents, but none of the like came. Instead, I was greeted by a sight of two horribly empty chairs. I stared, stunned, at what was before me as the truth hit me harder than lightning, knocking all the air out of my lungs. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“They… They didn’t come?” I forced whatever was left in my lungs out to pronouncing those words. It came out rather like a squeak.

“I tried… I really tried, my dear Yurie.” He patted my shoulder and hung my towel over my shoulder.

“How many times do you want us to tell you?! You are not allowed to play tennis!” A woman’s shrill voice pierced the air.

“But…but I love tennis! I want to play tennis forever and ever!” Came the voice of a young girl, a mere seven or eight, dressed in an indigo tennis outfit, twiddling a worn out tennis racket in her tiny hands.

“NO BUTS! Tennis cannot get you anywhere! You are to be a doctor or a lawyer, and THAT’S THAT! From now on, NO MORE TENNIS FOR YOU!” The father yelled.

“WHY?” Twin streams of tears poured down her cheeks. Her parents listened no longer and turned their back on her.

Dejected, I wiped my face dry of sweat and followed my brother to the back.

5 years later…

I finished up the last of my Math homework and packed my bag to turn in for the night. As I rummaged through my old wardrobe for something I needed, I unknowingly stumbled onto my very first, and very old tennis racket. I remember using my entire savings to pay for that racket, since my parents refused to buy me one, and I got my brother of 10 years older than me to teach me tennis, since he was one of the professional tennis players of his time. My heart flinched a little, but I brushed the thought away. It’s been 5 long years. Suddenly remembering what my parents said, and my body suddenly contorted, and I slammed the wardrobe door, entirely forgetting what I was looking for.

The next day at school, I went through the entire day just the same as usual, thinking that nothing unusual would happen today.

But, something very unusual was destined to happen today.

I was walking home after an exceptionally frustrating day at school. Just thinking of it made my blood boil, so I decided against thinking about it. Whispering muttered curses under my breath, I pretty much wasn’t looking at where I was going, and-

“Ooffh!”

“Owww…” I groaned, knocked to the ground. Rubbing my already-very-sore bottom, I stood up, muttering stuff like ‘inconsiderate brats’ and ‘some day…’ and the like.

“HEY! I’ve been looking for you for a very long time! Play a tennis match with me!” The person I‘d bumped into said.

“Huh?” I glanced up at the person, a girl, and she seemed rather familiar.

“You’re…?” I questioned, pointing towards her.

“You can’t remember?! I played you 5 years ago, and you beat me at the ‘World Junior Open’ Tennis Tournaments!”

“Oh.” I suddenly remembered. Sonia Kari, the ranked number 1 that I beat when I was 10, a good 5 years ago. Apparently, she was 13 years old then.

“No thank you. I don’t play tennis anymore.” I turned to walk away. She ran up after me and caught up.

“Come on! Just one game…?” Due to her incessant bugging, I finally relented, but making her promise that it will just only be one game.

“You’ll have to lend me a racket though, I don’t have mine. And I’ve not been playing for a very long time, so I’m rusty.” We headed for the street courts.

“One set match?”

“I’ll serve first thank you!!” I shot the ball.

“Oh you…!””

SMACK! SMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK!

What’s this feeling? I asked myself.

SMACK!

Somehow, it feels familiar…

SMACK! SMACK!

This can’t be!

SMACK!

I KNOW THIS! I remember this!

SMACK!

YES! Maybe… MAYBE I DO!!

SMACK!

The excitement…

SMACK!

The elation…

“7-5! GAME AND SET TO YURIE YAN!” I shouted.

…of winning a match!. Yes… This MUST be it!

“You haven’t de-proved after all these years, you are MEANT to be number 1. I will not fight against you anymore. Thank you very much.” She smiled and took her racket. I returned the smile.

“And thank you…” … for helping me to regain the burning passion I once had for tennis.