Archive for Percy896's Tennis Forum This is a new tennis forum to discuss professional tennis, vote and create polls, and ask advice about equipment, fitness, or anything regarding tennis! Now with a new Fantasy Tennis League!
Hearing that annoying beep the morning before a tennis tournament can be one of the most grueling or exciting noises. It can be grueling because you really just want a few extra minutes of sleep. On the other hand, the excitement it can bring knowing you have a match coming up can be a great feeling. For me, today, it was the latter.
I woke up at about 7:15 am and literally jumped out of bed. I was ready to go. Win number one was coming today. I could feel it. I threw on my Addidas flip flops, Nike shorts, and Prince shirt. Odd combination I know, but that’s what happens when you are not sponsored. I hurried out the door with my bag and caught one of the player shuttles over to the stadium. In the back seat pouch they had tournament programs. I opened one up and looked to see who my opponent was. I noticed I was playing the 33rd ranked player in the world, Fulgora. Definitely a winnable match. My excitement now grew into an adrenaline rush. This is it. Win number one.
As I arrived at the stadium I could see the many fans mulling around the outer grounds. I walked towards the player locker rooms, bag in hand, and made it all the way there without being noticed. That is probably because none of the Japanese fans have ever heard of me, nor seen what I look like. I did catch Not_Even_Amateur out of the corner of my eye; signing many autographs and posing for what seemed like a thousand pictures. “That’s alright, I don’t want any attention anyways!” I thought to myself.
I searched for my favorite locker number, number 47, and sat down by it. I changed into my match outfit (Prince T9 Roadsters, Nike shorts, Nike sleeveless crew jersey, Prince armband), and began getting into the “zone”. I was told my match was to begin in 15 minutes, and that it was the first match of the day. I walked out onto the court to seemingly no applause. Only the diehard fans were out for this first match of course, but that puts less pressure on myself anyways, so it’s not a bad thing. Fulgora and myself got in our warm up, and the match was about to be underway.
I sat down and sipped on my Propel: legs shaking furiously. The nerves were beginning to set in. I made my way behind the baseline and got the balls from the ball boy. “Deep breaths Josh, deep breaths…” I quietly said to myself. “One, two, three” I said as I bounced the ball three times. I tossed it up, bent my knees, reached, and ripped it. 15-love. Ace. That was just the start I wanted. A few more points won and the first game was in the bag. Fulgora now served, and it seemed that not 15 seconds later the score was already 1-1. We traded holding serve four times to make the score 5-5. The next service game I double faulted the first point, and I knew that this could be it. Fulgora pulled out two big returns on the next two points to put me on the defensive, and he easily won those points once I made unforced errors. Three break points now, and it didn’t take him long to get one. Right off my first serve Fulgora ripped a winner cross-court. My heart sank. He took his next service game at love, and won the first set.
“C’mon Josh you are still in this.” I said to myself. “You have comeback and won the second set before. You can take this guy.” I did just that. I got two quick breaks and held serve the rest of the way out to win the set.
“Alright, just one more and you got this, just one more.” We opened the set trading holds three times. Fulgora proved too much for me in the end though. My legs completely broke down and I was rendered useless. Fulgora won the next three games, and the match. I walked to the net, shook his hand and said, “The better player won today.” I walked off the court to a warm applause and headed back to locker number 47. I undressed, showered, put on some clean clothes, and made my way to the shuttle. Just as I was getting into the Toyota, a young kid came running up ranting in Japanese. Of course I couldn’t understand a word he said, but I understood the “International Sign for an Autograph” when he held out his hat and a sharpie. I placed my best John Hancock on the hat, and handed it back to the now smiling kid. I then realized this is what I do it for. I love tennis: everything about the game. I love the fans, training, stadiums, and everything else. I arrived back at my hotel and grabbed my stuff and headed to the airport a happy man.
