The Saturday Journal: a tennis racquet and may be, just one simple reason

I hadn't been more than 200 yards into my walk and these memories came rushing into the silence-- reminding me of my teenage years--the years I learned to play tennis--memories of girls' sports then and how different it is now. And maybe the reason these memories came flooding back--I've been watching Wimbledon over the past few weeks.

And yes, I'm going to show my age. When I first started watching tennis, Chris Evert was just coming on the scene. She was only a few years older than me. Her presence on the court was different than the other players. Her hair pulled back neatly in a ponytail--a matching ribbon adorning her hair. Now I wasn't much of a "ribbon in the hair" wearing girl--but this young athlete was like I said, different. She was the first professional tennis player who I ever saw hit the two-handed backhand--like swinging a softball bat almost--another thing I related to. And she was criticized for this style of play--"lack of strength in this pretty young player", they said. But she just kept on winning--defeating one opponent at a time. I wanted to play like her--be like her--minus the ribbon.

I worked in fast food on weekends as a teenager--as so many of us in my generation did. There wasn't that many jobs out there. And I saved my money until one day I had enough to buy myself this "official Chris Evert Signature Wilson" wooden tennis racquet. Special order with a smaller grip--my size and before I could take it home, the tennis shop put special string in the racquet. Another extra cost, but to me--so worth it. The time came for me to pick up my Chris Evert racquet and take it home. And everything was just pretty much close to perfect except for one thing--there were no close courts in my little community to where I could play.

There were no tennis courts at the high schools at this time. Soon they told us. And our driveway at home was made of rocks and gravel--not concrete. The only concrete outside was in the carport and my Dad would move his truck off the carport and I would spend hours it seemed hitting the tennis ball against the outside wall where the brick fireplace met the concrete. Pounded the ball every single day practicing my forehand, backhand--I didn't really know what I was doing. But I was watching Chris Evert play and copying her strokes as best I could.

And not too long in the future--the time came and the pavement was dry--lines were drawn--fences were raised high--nets were installed. Yes! There was not one glorious tennis court at my high school, but three!!

He was a coach at my high school--a football coach--a good one. And he knew some of us--both boys and girls were eager to learn the game of tennis--eager to learn the strokes--the scoring--the serve--how to compete. So during his summer break he offered to give tennis lessons a couple nights a week. The school didn't pay him. We young athletes didn't pay him. And I don't know about the rest of the ones in the class--but those two nights of the week were like heaven to me. So much so, a friend of mine had just come back from vacation and she wanted to hang out and she called my house--there were no such things as cell phones back then. No answer, and then she remembered what day it was--Tuesday night. And she knew exactly where I was.

We had a new principal that year and one night he showed up to our tennis lessons. He was a good athlete himself--loved and supported school sports. He challenged me to a game and somehow I beat him. He never let me forget that. And two years later as he shook my hand at graduation--handed me my high school diploma, he challenged me to a rematch. A moment in time I hope I never forget.

That first year after the tennis courts were installed high school athletics only offered a boys team and the coach that year was gracious enough to allow me to be the "practice player". And then the following fall--what I had waited for--what seemed like forever--my senior year--the first ever Viking Girls' Tennis team was formed. That first team--we had no uniforms, no team shirts, no embroidered tennis bags. My Mama, being a seamstress made me a white tennis dress--added a tennis racquet decal and stitched North Wilkes under the decal.

It was a season of highs and lows--ups and downs--one match at Alleghany High School--it was late and there was still one doubles match to finish. It was dusk--almost dark and one parent or coach (I can't remember) yelled, let's get our cars and park them facing the courts--turn on the headlights. And that's what we did--we finished our match in the dark--assisted by the headlights of a few cars.

Yes, girls sports have come a long way since then--there were times when the only reason a girl couldn't play was, she was born a girl. Both youth and middle and high school sports as a whole have come a long way and I'm thankful for that.

Summer is almost over--school will begin soon--sports practices will start. And some of these young kids entering middle school and high school have never had an opportunity to take a class to improve their skills--take a private lesson. Many--it will be their first time they swing a racket--grip a golf club, strap on a football helmet--run drills--practice free throw shooting--their feet to touch the sacred wrestling mat or learn how quickly a hard hit line drive down third base line can turn a double-play. And they may not be the fastest--the strongest--the most talented--but they're there.

So I guess what I'm trying to say in all my rambling here is this--parents, family members, coaches, friends--I hope we can show these kids some grace. Because we never know--some of these kids are playing for more than a win--more than a participation trophy. They may be there because their friends are there--be part of a team--see it as a challenge--succeed in something--anything, accomplish a goal or be involved in something bigger than themselves. And some may be there for just one simple reason--they love the game.

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