Whacked again

Our night tennis competition is played in a large complex; at the start there would be fifty or so players on the courts. By 9pm we’re probably down to about twenty, and from there the numbers gradually dwindle until inevitably there are only two: him and me.

Such was the case on Monday. We began with the doubles which we lost 6-4 6-2. We didn’t play badly but were simply outclassed. I was a clear underdog for my singles; I knew I would need to be at the top of my game to stand a chance. To my surprise I won the first set 6-2 – in that set I was at the top of my game while my opponent made uncharacteristic errors. Winning that set was a bit scary; despite the decisive score I was at best only a slight favourite for the match. In the second set his mistakes dried up and I was soon behind, 2-4 15-40. I dug my way out of that hole and after an hour of play brought up a match point. I’ve had considerable trouble closing out matches, but this time I was determined to put him away. Only I never got the chance. I returned his booming first serve but he powered away the volley. From that point I got more and more frustrated. To their credit two of my team-mates stayed to watch the end of my match, but even they began to annoy me. If you’re going to stay, please get off your frigging cell phones and watch the match! I lost six games in a row to fall behind 6-2 5-7 0-3. At 1-4 in the third I knew I was toast. Yet another match where I’ve tried my absolute hardest but fallen just short because of, I don’t know, something I did in a past life maybe. I decided I would go down fighting and would run down every ball, and boy did I have to run down a lot of balls. The games got longer, the rallies got longer, and he had me seemingly on the end of a string. I surprised myself with my ability to dig in. An hour after my first match point, I conjured up another two as he served at 4-5. More impossible serves. Match point number four. I hardly got my racket onto this one. Number five. Another first serve, but unlike all the others it was half-way up the service box. If I’m ever going to win this, I thought, it’ll have to be now. In poker parlance I pushed all in. The longest exchange of the match ensued. When my opponent’s final shot of that 40-plus-stroke rally sailed long I lay on the court, totally spent.

After that match, which finished shortly after 10:30, I hardly slept a wink. At work yesterday (when I eventually got there) I needed several cups of coffee just to keep my eyes open, so when I got a phone call from someone asking me to play again last night, I was horrified. After some deliberation I gave in and agreed to play. We had a close win in the doubles, then everything kicked off again in the singles. I started appallingly – I couldn’t hit a barn door in the first set, nor could I keep away from his killer forehand – but I finished up a 1-6 6-3 7-6 winner, the final tie-break score being 7-4. I was fortunate – I was only two points from defeat in the 12th game of the deciding set and was handed a couple of crucial free points in the tie-break.

Just prior to last night’s tennis I met up with my counsellor – up till now I’ve been (incorrectly?) calling her a psychologist. We had an interesting discussion but she certainly struck a raw nerve as we moved on to the topic of my identity, or lack of it. It’s something I’ve struggled with all my life, and will discuss it in a later post, but for now I’m just going to lie on the sofa and do nothing. After all that tennis I’m utterly whacked.