You always remember your first
Friday evening, April 14, 2006...my first provincially sanctioned tournament. I'm scheduled to play a Russian in the first round. He's been playing provincials for years according to his bio, ranked 11th, at this level. No worries. I'll take him down.
I drove myself to the facility. I decided to save the stretch limo for the finals. I grab my gear and head for the entrance. I confirm my arrival with registration. Funny, the cutie working behind the counter's never heard of me...I even had to say my name twice and spell it for her. Odd, but not uncommon. I'm not a household name just yet. So, I pull out my "GOLD" Visa to pay the entry fee, and suddenly she's my best friend. With that settled, I walk through the gates and step into tennis PARADISE!
I've never seen so many indoor courts before...a lavish lounge, excercise equipment of all sorts. "Towel sir?" someone says, handing me a towel so white it could cause snow blindness. I guess me salivating at the mouth drew some attention...I wipe myself dry and proceed to the locker area.
It is pristine. Carpeted, mirrors everywhere, complementary shaving kits, colognes, you name it...and of course more towels. I stake out a bench and locker at the end, and start to prep for my match. I stand in front of a mirror in my birthday suit, and give myself a quick pep-talk...just like Federer does, I would imagine. Then I throw on my tennis clothes, an awesome new pair of shoes, and storm out ready to do BATTLE!
I still have some time before I'm scheduled to play, so I go watch a friend play his match on another court. As I pass the court monitor on my way to a seat in the stands, he offers me a towel. Ok, what's with all the towels?
My friend's doing well so far, I think. I'm actually more concerned with exchanging pleasantries with his attractive friend who came to watch. Well that and desperately trying to find subtle differences between my new shoes and those being worn by my friend's opponent. To my horror, they look almost identical. Bastard! The prick beat me to it...then he ends up beating my friend as well. To add insult to injury, he took little notice of our attractive friend who was there to not only cheer us on, but also to distract our opponents. Hmm, the guy's got great fashion sense, ability to manhandle other guys on the court, and is unfazed by female beauty...I'm starting to think there's a direct corrolation between the three!? So, later that night I skipped my personal post-match pep-talk, and showered at home.
Now, back to my match...it starts off well enough. My opponent seems like a very nice guy, but not intimidating at all. I'm oozing confidence at this point, while he's drenched in sweat, and we haven't even started yet. To break the ice, I offer up a "hello" followed by a curious yet casual "so, did you have an earlier match or something?". He replies with a heavy Russian accent "No, of course not, this is my first match of the night" giving me a puzzled look, like I'm an idiot for asking. Hmm, Ok? Now I'm thinking he's the reason this club keeps so many towels on hand.
The match starts, I serve first and hold easy enough...nothing but smooth sailing from here on, right? Well, a wasted Friday evening and $40 later, I went home with a record of 0-1, and minimal ranking points...but I was finally on tennis' radar screens, sitting at 70th place, tied with all the other first-time losers.
EXCUSES: It is important to note that nothing is ever my fault. I reserve the right to make as many excuses for my poor performance as necessary. This time, aside from this being my first official tournament, I simply lacked the drive necessary to defeat Aquaman...and he was a real fighter. Allow me to elaborate. In the weeks prior to this match, my Naturopathic Doctor suggested I do a spring detox. This involves 2 days of starvation, followed by at least a week of nothing but steamed vegetables, rice and other low-toxin foods...so basically, more starvation. You see, for a life-long carnivore, living on a vegan diet even if just for a little while is tough. Eventually, the body caves in becoming dosile and less blood thirsty. Clearly, during my match I experienced these veganesque feelings of acceptance, like it didn't matter if I won or lost, and so, I lost. The other guy just wanted it more.
I drove myself to the facility. I decided to save the stretch limo for the finals. I grab my gear and head for the entrance. I confirm my arrival with registration. Funny, the cutie working behind the counter's never heard of me...I even had to say my name twice and spell it for her. Odd, but not uncommon. I'm not a household name just yet. So, I pull out my "GOLD" Visa to pay the entry fee, and suddenly she's my best friend. With that settled, I walk through the gates and step into tennis PARADISE!
I've never seen so many indoor courts before...a lavish lounge, excercise equipment of all sorts. "Towel sir?" someone says, handing me a towel so white it could cause snow blindness. I guess me salivating at the mouth drew some attention...I wipe myself dry and proceed to the locker area.
It is pristine. Carpeted, mirrors everywhere, complementary shaving kits, colognes, you name it...and of course more towels. I stake out a bench and locker at the end, and start to prep for my match. I stand in front of a mirror in my birthday suit, and give myself a quick pep-talk...just like Federer does, I would imagine. Then I throw on my tennis clothes, an awesome new pair of shoes, and storm out ready to do BATTLE!
I still have some time before I'm scheduled to play, so I go watch a friend play his match on another court. As I pass the court monitor on my way to a seat in the stands, he offers me a towel. Ok, what's with all the towels?
My friend's doing well so far, I think. I'm actually more concerned with exchanging pleasantries with his attractive friend who came to watch. Well that and desperately trying to find subtle differences between my new shoes and those being worn by my friend's opponent. To my horror, they look almost identical. Bastard! The prick beat me to it...then he ends up beating my friend as well. To add insult to injury, he took little notice of our attractive friend who was there to not only cheer us on, but also to distract our opponents. Hmm, the guy's got great fashion sense, ability to manhandle other guys on the court, and is unfazed by female beauty...I'm starting to think there's a direct corrolation between the three!? So, later that night I skipped my personal post-match pep-talk, and showered at home.
Now, back to my match...it starts off well enough. My opponent seems like a very nice guy, but not intimidating at all. I'm oozing confidence at this point, while he's drenched in sweat, and we haven't even started yet. To break the ice, I offer up a "hello" followed by a curious yet casual "so, did you have an earlier match or something?". He replies with a heavy Russian accent "No, of course not, this is my first match of the night" giving me a puzzled look, like I'm an idiot for asking. Hmm, Ok? Now I'm thinking he's the reason this club keeps so many towels on hand.
The match starts, I serve first and hold easy enough...nothing but smooth sailing from here on, right? Well, a wasted Friday evening and $40 later, I went home with a record of 0-1, and minimal ranking points...but I was finally on tennis' radar screens, sitting at 70th place, tied with all the other first-time losers.
EXCUSES: It is important to note that nothing is ever my fault. I reserve the right to make as many excuses for my poor performance as necessary. This time, aside from this being my first official tournament, I simply lacked the drive necessary to defeat Aquaman...and he was a real fighter. Allow me to elaborate. In the weeks prior to this match, my Naturopathic Doctor suggested I do a spring detox. This involves 2 days of starvation, followed by at least a week of nothing but steamed vegetables, rice and other low-toxin foods...so basically, more starvation. You see, for a life-long carnivore, living on a vegan diet even if just for a little while is tough. Eventually, the body caves in becoming dosile and less blood thirsty. Clearly, during my match I experienced these veganesque feelings of acceptance, like it didn't matter if I won or lost, and so, I lost. The other guy just wanted it more.
posted by Desiderius1979 at 8:13 AM
3 Comments:
I remember my first ever one too! And I won my very first set but couldn't capitalize. Don't wanna make xcuses, but I can still remember the pain and it still makes me slightly nauseous.
Nice job guy in the way you relate your stories. A reader really feels in the experience too!
I thoroughly enjoy this blog D, it’s candid and funny as hell! Infact, I was in stitches picturing you walking through the posh facility, all star struck in white and excited by the luxurious digs! Ooooo and not to forget those spiffy new shoes there! Hee hee, YOU GO ON WICH YA BAD SELF AN GET EM BOY! Lol
:P
Great site lots of usefull infomation here.
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