Yeah, that's what I said. You know why? Because I am starting tennis lessons this evening. Maria Sharapova best be afraid. Because I'm gonna tear up the courts pretty soon. Yup. As soon as I can actually serve in the correct square and fine tune my back hand swing so I hit...oh, I don't know...atleast 50% of the returns that come at me...I should be fiiine. Ummm...yeahhhh.
Which brings me to a fond memory when I was playing tennis a month or two back. It was one of those games where we thought if we made those unnecessary "grunting" noises like the pros do, it would somehow improve our skills. No such luck. On one specific rally, I swung my racket as hard as I could and let out a yell, anticipating that the return would be an "ace" or whatever it's called and, poof! The ball was no where to be found.
Meanwhile, Erica is rolling around laughing hysterically and I can't figure out why. I look up thinking the ball might come down a minute later. Nope. Look all over the court and in the court next to us. Nope. Still no tennis ball. I am looking everywhere humanly possible and when I'm about to settle on the fact that I must have hit the ball SO hard that it had to have disintegrated, Erica manages to catch her breath and tells me to look "in" my racket.
Yeahhhh, the ball was neatly wedged in that little triangular space between where the strings are and the racket handle is. Hey, we have to all start somewhere, right?
No comments:
Post a Comment