It was their third time playing tennis together and Ace and Hal still had not played an actual set against each other yet. Ace was anxious to get some match play under his belt because he knew he would need it against the other players at the club. He enjoyed just hitting. It gave him a chance to get into a rhythm, grove his shots and get his timing down. He could hit all day if he was lucky enough to find someone to rally with at the public courts that he used to drive around to during the summers. But club players were all about playing sets and keeping score. A lot of guys could rally but real players need to be able to hold their serve and Ace knew he was not ready for prime time. He had to get Hal to play some sets.
"Why don't we each take ten serves and play out the points?" said Ace. "We won't keep score."
"Sounds good," said Hal.
Ace served first, starting off easy so his arm and shoulder would have a chance to get loose. He aimed for the middle of the service box and grooved the ball over the net giving himself a nice, safe margin of error. Hal returned the ball cross court and Ace smacked it back up the sideline for a winner. One to nothing, he thought to himself. He served again and took Hal out wide to his forehand side, forcing him to reach for the ball. Hal managed to get his racquet on the ball but could only offer up a weak return that bounced and sat up nicely just past the service line. Ace stepped into the shot and ripped the ball deep into the backhand corner.
Ace turned around and walked back to the service line and quietly said to himself, "Two for the good guy."
Ace finished his ten serves and was satisfied with himself, winning eight of the ten points they played, although he made no mention of the score. Hal took his turn serving and managed to win a few more points. Ace became more aggressive, charging the net whenever he had a chance and cutting off the ball with volley winners. He worried that Hal might get annoyed after losing so many points but it did not seem to faze him in the least. He didn't wan to be a jerk about it but isn't that why they were playing? To win?
His older brother taught him that. Keeping score, competing - winning, that was what it was all about. It didn't matter that his brother was seven years older and bigger and taller. He never let Ace win anything. Ever. It didn't matter what they played. Basketball, football or a foot race, Ace always lost. Even though, deep down, he knew it wasn't fair because his brother Tom was older and stronger, it still made him mad. Almost crazy mad sometimes. There were plenty of fights and some occasional tears after some of the more intense beat downs. Just once he wanted his brother to let him win something. But it never happened and even if it did, Ace knew that he would not be satisfied if Tom put the fix in. So he fought harder and as he got older he began to realize that he was a pretty decent athlete and that he could hold his own against some of the best jocks in his school.
In tenth grade he became friends with Bruce Weaver, the biggest jock in school. Bruce talked him into becoming the manager of the junior varsity basketball team. The team managers were always the kid with the glasses and pocket protector that couldn't play a thing. Ace just couldn't see himself as one of those kids, but he was so bored he agreed to come by after school one day. There were only nine boys who tried out for the team. Not even enough for them to have a five-on-five scrimmage. But the coach was a really cool guy and right away he made the team feel like they were the nine most special kids in the school. Ace was hooked. The best part was before and after practice when he got to shoot around with the team. Sometimes they might play a quick two-on-two pick up game. Ace could not shoot the ball as well as everyone else, but he was a quick learner and knew that if he played good defense and could pass the ball he could always get in a pick up game.
One day while the coach was trying to teach the team how to run a new defensive rotation he suddenly called over to the bench and said "Brown, step in here for a second." Ace practically jumped out of his Chucks Taylor sneakers.
"Just stand here," the coach said.
The first team walked through the formation a few times and the next thing Ace knew he was scrimmaging with the team. He couldn't believe his luck. He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing but he ran up and down the court like a mad man and even managed to steal the ball once. The next day after the team finished their drills the coach let him scrimmage with them again. This time managed to grab three rebounds in a row. The coach went ballistic. They had never seen him so mad.
" Who's man is that?" he bellowed. "How can Ace get three rebounds in a row?" He grabbed him by his shirt and spun him around. "Somebody has got to box him out or we are going to be here all night."
Ace wasn't sure if he had screwed up the practice and sheepishly said "Sorry coach."
"You just keep doing what your doing." he told him. "Don't worry about it."
By the end of the season Ace was doing all the drills and scrimmaging full out with the team. They had a losing record and as a reward, the coach gave Ace a uniform and let him suit up for the last game of the season. They were getting killed again and with twenty seconds to go the coach put Ace into the game. He never touched the ball.
The next year, he didn't try out for the varsity team. He knew he was not that good, but he also knew that he had proved something to himself.
His confidence began to build and he used it to help him become a varsity letter man his senior year in both football and crew. It also helped him with girls. And then getting his first job. And just about everything else in his life. It was really pretty simple. Talent could take a person so far. But it was self confidence - that elusive and intangible element that had to be coaxed from deep within the recesses of the phsyche, that made the difference between wishing and watching to competing and winning.
They had played for over an hour and Ace secretly knew that he had beaten Hal badly, even though they were not supposed to be keeping score. He wanted to start playing some real sets so he could start to meet and play some of the other members at the club, but Hal was content just to work on his game for the time being. Then the curtain parted and two players walked on to the court next to them. Ace was amazed to see somebody else out on the courts on a Saturday night. He kept an eye on them as the warmed up. They were definitely a little older but they looked like they could play. After only ten minutes they started a set. They're club players for sure, thought Ace. He tried to concentrate on his game with Hal, but he couldn't help himself as he kept peeking over at these two. He liked the way they played, changing sides every odd game, sitting down on the bench and taking a water break. He could tell they were enjoying themselves even though they seemed to be at war with each other on the court. They each called out the score before they served, cleared any stray balls from the court before the next point began and made nice, clear calls if the ball was out of bounds. They were getting louder too, grunting and huffing as they fought for the ball. They were having some long rallies too. Ace knew he had to meet these guys.
Ace waited until the new guys were taking a break. He hit a ball over toward the sidelines on purpose.
"You guys look like you are going to war over there" he said, as he bent down and picked up his ball. They turned around and seemed a little startled. Some players didn't like to be interrupted while they were in the middle of a match. Ace hoped he did not blow it with these guys.
"It's a battle every week with this guy," the tall player said.
"Yeah," said the shorter guy. "And he cheats too!"
The tall one said "Look who's talking."
They all laughed. Here was his chance.
Trying to sound as casual as he could, Ace said, "Do you guys ever play any doubles?"
"Why don't we each take ten serves and play out the points?" said Ace. "We won't keep score."
"Sounds good," said Hal.
Ace served first, starting off easy so his arm and shoulder would have a chance to get loose. He aimed for the middle of the service box and grooved the ball over the net giving himself a nice, safe margin of error. Hal returned the ball cross court and Ace smacked it back up the sideline for a winner. One to nothing, he thought to himself. He served again and took Hal out wide to his forehand side, forcing him to reach for the ball. Hal managed to get his racquet on the ball but could only offer up a weak return that bounced and sat up nicely just past the service line. Ace stepped into the shot and ripped the ball deep into the backhand corner.
Ace turned around and walked back to the service line and quietly said to himself, "Two for the good guy."
Ace finished his ten serves and was satisfied with himself, winning eight of the ten points they played, although he made no mention of the score. Hal took his turn serving and managed to win a few more points. Ace became more aggressive, charging the net whenever he had a chance and cutting off the ball with volley winners. He worried that Hal might get annoyed after losing so many points but it did not seem to faze him in the least. He didn't wan to be a jerk about it but isn't that why they were playing? To win?
His older brother taught him that. Keeping score, competing - winning, that was what it was all about. It didn't matter that his brother was seven years older and bigger and taller. He never let Ace win anything. Ever. It didn't matter what they played. Basketball, football or a foot race, Ace always lost. Even though, deep down, he knew it wasn't fair because his brother Tom was older and stronger, it still made him mad. Almost crazy mad sometimes. There were plenty of fights and some occasional tears after some of the more intense beat downs. Just once he wanted his brother to let him win something. But it never happened and even if it did, Ace knew that he would not be satisfied if Tom put the fix in. So he fought harder and as he got older he began to realize that he was a pretty decent athlete and that he could hold his own against some of the best jocks in his school.
In tenth grade he became friends with Bruce Weaver, the biggest jock in school. Bruce talked him into becoming the manager of the junior varsity basketball team. The team managers were always the kid with the glasses and pocket protector that couldn't play a thing. Ace just couldn't see himself as one of those kids, but he was so bored he agreed to come by after school one day. There were only nine boys who tried out for the team. Not even enough for them to have a five-on-five scrimmage. But the coach was a really cool guy and right away he made the team feel like they were the nine most special kids in the school. Ace was hooked. The best part was before and after practice when he got to shoot around with the team. Sometimes they might play a quick two-on-two pick up game. Ace could not shoot the ball as well as everyone else, but he was a quick learner and knew that if he played good defense and could pass the ball he could always get in a pick up game.
One day while the coach was trying to teach the team how to run a new defensive rotation he suddenly called over to the bench and said "Brown, step in here for a second." Ace practically jumped out of his Chucks Taylor sneakers.
"Just stand here," the coach said.
The first team walked through the formation a few times and the next thing Ace knew he was scrimmaging with the team. He couldn't believe his luck. He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing but he ran up and down the court like a mad man and even managed to steal the ball once. The next day after the team finished their drills the coach let him scrimmage with them again. This time managed to grab three rebounds in a row. The coach went ballistic. They had never seen him so mad.
" Who's man is that?" he bellowed. "How can Ace get three rebounds in a row?" He grabbed him by his shirt and spun him around. "Somebody has got to box him out or we are going to be here all night."
Ace wasn't sure if he had screwed up the practice and sheepishly said "Sorry coach."
"You just keep doing what your doing." he told him. "Don't worry about it."
By the end of the season Ace was doing all the drills and scrimmaging full out with the team. They had a losing record and as a reward, the coach gave Ace a uniform and let him suit up for the last game of the season. They were getting killed again and with twenty seconds to go the coach put Ace into the game. He never touched the ball.
The next year, he didn't try out for the varsity team. He knew he was not that good, but he also knew that he had proved something to himself.
His confidence began to build and he used it to help him become a varsity letter man his senior year in both football and crew. It also helped him with girls. And then getting his first job. And just about everything else in his life. It was really pretty simple. Talent could take a person so far. But it was self confidence - that elusive and intangible element that had to be coaxed from deep within the recesses of the phsyche, that made the difference between wishing and watching to competing and winning.
- - -
They had played for over an hour and Ace secretly knew that he had beaten Hal badly, even though they were not supposed to be keeping score. He wanted to start playing some real sets so he could start to meet and play some of the other members at the club, but Hal was content just to work on his game for the time being. Then the curtain parted and two players walked on to the court next to them. Ace was amazed to see somebody else out on the courts on a Saturday night. He kept an eye on them as the warmed up. They were definitely a little older but they looked like they could play. After only ten minutes they started a set. They're club players for sure, thought Ace. He tried to concentrate on his game with Hal, but he couldn't help himself as he kept peeking over at these two. He liked the way they played, changing sides every odd game, sitting down on the bench and taking a water break. He could tell they were enjoying themselves even though they seemed to be at war with each other on the court. They each called out the score before they served, cleared any stray balls from the court before the next point began and made nice, clear calls if the ball was out of bounds. They were getting louder too, grunting and huffing as they fought for the ball. They were having some long rallies too. Ace knew he had to meet these guys.
Ace waited until the new guys were taking a break. He hit a ball over toward the sidelines on purpose.
"You guys look like you are going to war over there" he said, as he bent down and picked up his ball. They turned around and seemed a little startled. Some players didn't like to be interrupted while they were in the middle of a match. Ace hoped he did not blow it with these guys.
"It's a battle every week with this guy," the tall player said.
"Yeah," said the shorter guy. "And he cheats too!"
The tall one said "Look who's talking."
They all laughed. Here was his chance.
Trying to sound as casual as he could, Ace said, "Do you guys ever play any doubles?"
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