Jackpot!

Two weekends from now I’ll get an opportunity to increase my career winnings threefold. My club is hosting another open tournament with cash prizes, and if I prevail against 15 other competitors, that’s $100 in my pocket…skyrocketing my career earnings to a grand total of $150. That may not seem like much, but I’d be a rich man in Djibouti. Who am I kidding…I’d still be dirt poor (the average Djiboutan earns ten times that much, even in times of drought). Thank goodness I live in Canada, the land of opportunity, and bad tennis players. Even if I lose in the finals, I’ll still get $50. Ah, what a country we live in.

So far though only 5 players have confirmed, and if we don’t get more soon, the tournament may not take place. Maybe I should stop referring to the entry fee as my retirement fund when advertising it to potential participants? I thought it was catchy.

Tennis travels

My favourite place to play tennis has been the red clay courts of Croatia. I've made the trip a couple of times in recent years, but failed to go again this year. I miss it already. Not just the tennis...the whole experience. I've never actually won a match there, despite playing some of my best tennis ever. The players there are just in a different league altogether. That's me last year chillin' after another intense battle. How intense you ask? Well, when we started, my shirt was white. True, hard courts are not as messy, but it's nothing a quick dip in the clear blue waters of the Adriatic can't fix. See you in 2007, and this time I may even win a match.










UPDATE: In Sept 2007 I finally won a match in Croatia...two in fact, in the coastal town of Vodice. I still remain winless in the big leagues of Sisak.

Re-invigorated

I used to half joke that one of the things that held me back in tennis was my long-time practice partner. The truth is, I wasn't joking at all. He sucked...and he made me suck. Our matches became mentally draining and predictable...very hard to get excited for. Then, something happened. Ds made no progress in competitive tournaments, had nagging injuries, practically left tennis altogether. Then, one day, he came back...and we played. To my surprise, he exibited no rust in his shot making or physical conditioning. Yes, he threw up on the court after a particularly long raly, but that was attributed to simple indigestion. He finished the 5-set marathon, and beat me overall.

I was shocked. Who was this player? I brushed it off as a one-time thing and was eager for a re-match the following week. Again, it went to 5 sets, but again, I was unable to win the deciding set. The week after that, I took a commanding 3-1 lead early on, and this time...I lost all 3 sets...no need for a 5-setter. I walked off seemingly dejected, not even willing to take advantage of the free court time that presented itself only days away from the next big tournament.

Ds had emerged from his absence as an elite player with all the shots, but my battles with him had reinvigorated my game as well. My recent struggles against him forced me to use everything I had in my own toolkit. I was ready for the tournament. I was two games away from knocking out the eventual and still undefeated champion that week...a man that defeated Ds himself with relative ease. I lost, but I lost to the best and just barely. It's good to be back. Can't wait for a re-match.

Long wait for nothing

All winter I've waited for a tournament to play in. I played one match, and then got to go home. It was a lengthy marathon, but not worth the entry fee.

Nothin' doin'

Not wanting to make the trip to godforsaken towns like Burlington for a tournament, I'm forced to wait until February for events closer to my usual hunting grounds. I could use the extra time to practice, but alas, there we've hit another snag. You see, our practice facility is undergoing repairs. Apparently the courts are weathering away in the turbulent bubble enclosed microclimate. I'm thinking it's all the hot air emitted by the frustrated tennis wannabes. Either that, or the bubble's sprung a leak from all the missed overheads we've pounded into its belly.

Anyway, with 2007 here, I have a few tennis resolutions for this year:

- Stop taking tennis advice from members of my entourage. If they knew what they were talking about, they'd be out there playing.

- Despite what they may say, women don't like sensitive guys, so the next time there's a challenge to a match from a sassy tennis phenom, kick her ass!

- It's good to be the big fish, and the key to big fish longevity is to always seek out cozier ponds.

- Keep being Croatian, it's worked for other tennis stars...soccer stars, basketball
stars, skiing stars, and rabid nationalists alike. And of course,

- Learn to actually play tennis. I say this every year, but you know how it is with resolutions...by the final week of January, we all lose our focus.

Sweet, sweet ass...kicking

Despite being firmly planted in the soil that is our tennis community, this winter I find myself in a precarious situation with my off-season training. Must be the permafrost. Whatever the reason, our local summer club failed to provide us star players with affordable and regular practice sessions at a nearby indoor facility, forcing us to come up with evermore creative ways to keep up our training regimen. Thanks to global warming, unseasonally warm temperatures allowed us to play outdoors into November. I took last Friday off from work (yes, I have a day job...just until the prize money starts rolling in). It was a beautiful sunny day, almost 10 degrees. Ds, Michaelo and I, all happened to have days off so we spent the afternoon in the sun playing tennis. Ds, a fellow provincial competitor, and the guy who surprisingly ended my quest for the local club championship earlier this year, only to piss away the finals, was just coming off an injury and eager to play again. Michaelo is the club's juniors coach, and the man solely responsible for Budweiser's record-breaking 3rd quarter profits.

After a quick warm up, we got a mini singles tournament going...winner stays on the court and awaits the next challenger while the loser sits until the next match. I started off bad and was doing a lot of sitting, ds was dominating and Michaelo was the creamy filling. In the second round of matches I defeated each of them, evening out all of our records. By the third round, everything had flip-flopped...I had the best record, M was still the middle, with ds a sad third. I was feelin' great and ready to play again the following day, only to find out that the new club executive took the nets down for the winter. D'oh! Luckily, ds had been working on a contingency plan for months that came to fruition that very night. We had an indoor court booked for 2 hours! He said to trust him, so I forked over my "guest fee", asked no questions, and there was indoor tennis that night.

I didn't do great playing doubles that night. It was noisy and distracting with all the other courts booked by other coaches, grooming the next Daniel Nestor. Slim pickings from what I saw, but there was one impressive specimen. A teenage phenom from Venezuela, here to train and study. I knew her coach well. I played against him many times. He greeted me and asked if I'd hit with his student later on. He's training her for the pros, and wanted to see how well she'd do against a male opponent of reasonable skill level.

Just prior to my set with her, I broke the stings on my main racquet. I had to use one of my back-ups and was not feeling the ball well. Still, we had a fun set...I aced the cutie a few times, but time and time again I'd put easy volleys into the net...keep your eyes on the ball, man...but honestly, given the choice between a fuzzy ball and a pair of bouncing mellons, the eyes will betray. Getting my ass kicked 6-1 never felt so sweet!

Revenge is a dish best served...

RED HOT! At this week's tournament I managed to avenge my defeat from two months ago. I was facing the tricky flatterer himself, again in the querterfinals. As before, I took a commanding 5-2 lead only to see him come back and make it 5-6. I tried to hold serve and force a tie-breaker, but quickly found myself down 0-40. This was my set, I'm not letting you have it, I don't care what the score is b**ch...and so, a few monster serves later, I had the set tied at 6-6. Tie-breaker time. Again, he jumped to a 6-3 lead and needed only 1 point to win the set...and again, I refused to let him get it. I applied controlled aggression to my game, and it worked. I won the first set 7-6 (8-6 in the tie-break). One down.

In the second set he managed a 5-1 lead somehow. I looked around...all the other matches were done for the night. This being my second match of the day, I decided I was not interested in playing yet another marathon 3-setter with this guy, so I started my comeback. I came to the net often, pounded forehands and backhands with every opportunity...there wasn't a shot in my repertoire I did not use aginst him. Even being up 5-1, my opponent never had a chance. He went down 7-6, 7-5, having won neither of the sets he was surely about to win. Revenge sure is sweet.

Sadly though, I extended no such courtesy to my previous round's opponent who was looking for just such revenge on me. I beat him on the clay-courts earlier in the year when he was a much higher ranked player. After that defeat, he went through a slump, only to re-emerge as a force in the hard-court season. He took the first set easily 6-2. His girlfriend in the stands seemed hopeful, and so did he. I could smell the scent of hope emanating from his corpse (court 4 had only one player bench for some reason, so we were forced to sit rather snuggly side by side during change-overs). He seemed in good spirits, we even chatted a bit. I guess he didn't notice the stank of whoop ass I was about to unleash on him. If not then, I'm sure he smelt it towards the end of the 2nd set though. At 5-4, my ad, I served an ace down the middle winning the set...but he called it OUT! I gave him a look, and calmly served my 2nd. The set was extended briefly, but ultimately went my way 6-4. What's more, the awful out call gave me just enough of a reason to destroy the guy in the final set...and so I did, 6-1.

Sunday semis went a little different. It was a battle. The guy (eventual champion) didn't fall for much. If my shots were dead on, I'd get my points...but anything less, and he'd make me pay. I lost 6-4, 6-4...but a semifinals appearance after a couple disappointing tournaments ain't bad...for now.

Kindred spirits

I entered the latest tournament as the 2nd seed...my highest ranking yet. I had a Friday night 1st-round match, but decided that a few pints with friends before the match was a good idea. "It's just the first round" I said. I've beaten 1st round opponents with my eyes closed. Well, of course I have...I've been getting 1st round byes for months. I can't even remember the last time I had to play an actual person that early on in a tournament. Just my luck though. The unranked guy they drew to play me was a top level player, who simply took some time from tournaments and thus lost his ranking.

My opponent was my age, had the same fancy bag, same racquets, the latest attire, the walk, the talk...you name it. As soon as I saw him I was like, "pffff, another phony like me". So, I called his bluff and we had a hell of a match. The problem was he did the same and eventually got the better of me. After the match, he asked if I'd practice with him sometime. I guess it gets pretty lonely for us phonies at this level...too good for the amateurs, not good enough for the pros. I lost my match that day, but I gained a friend. Hey "friend", that was my match you PUNK!