Sets 3 and 4 (of 365)
F. vs. Stuart at Caswell. Winner: F. 6-3, 6-2
OK, so I got whooped by a 13-year-old. My daughter laughed at me and called me old. No ice cream for you.
My mojo: Average
I wonder if I will ever describe my mojo as "Super-Duper" when I lose? I bet if I played Federer I could bring everything I had to the table and still not get a point, and possibly still be satisfied with the way I played, so yes. But there has to be some subtle bias in there. Anyway, in this match, I couldn't seem to quite get there on anticipating shots some of the time. I felt really "up and down." Sometimes I would be on top of it, and then I would either lose focus or tighten up. My strokes were not too bad, but I ended up on defense a little more than I would have liked to--just hitting the ball back rather than being able to set up for placement. F. played well and showed me why he is in the championship division.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Monday, November 20, 2006
Next, Please...
Set 2 (of 365):
Stuart vs. D. at Pharr. Winner: Stuart 6-0
My mojo: Above-average
He played well, but I was catching the ball OK and anticipating decently. Against a way stronger opponent, I might have totally flubbed it, but I was able to bring enough to the table to goose-egg him. We did have one really good game that went back and forth from deuce to adds, and I was able to edge him out on it. Valiant effort, D, and better luck some other time when my mojo is in the toilet.
Stuart vs. D. at Pharr. Winner: Stuart 6-0
My mojo: Above-average
He played well, but I was catching the ball OK and anticipating decently. Against a way stronger opponent, I might have totally flubbed it, but I was able to bring enough to the table to goose-egg him. We did have one really good game that went back and forth from deuce to adds, and I was able to edge him out on it. Valiant effort, D, and better luck some other time when my mojo is in the toilet.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
My First Set
Set 1 (of 365):
Stuart vs. J. at Caswell. Winner: J. 7-5
My mojo: Average
Made it through my first set of the series, hooray! I was not playing too badly, but not playing particularly great either. I lost the first two games, then I won the next four, after which my opponent came back and beat me. A worthy effort, and great fun.
Stuart vs. J. at Caswell. Winner: J. 7-5
My mojo: Average
Made it through my first set of the series, hooray! I was not playing too badly, but not playing particularly great either. I lost the first two games, then I won the next four, after which my opponent came back and beat me. A worthy effort, and great fun.
Clarification and Further Study of the Matter at Hand
A couple things I want to mention about when I played tennis in high school: 1) Occasionally my friends and I would play tennis with a golf ball. We called this "Killer Tennis." Aside from the obvious disadvantages related to getting a hard and dangerous object moving at a high rate of speed, another serious disadvantage was that it would readily go through the holes in the chain-link fence, causing disruption outside the test range. 2) Sometimes I would play variations on the game of tennis. Most people, when they come up with variations on a game, would change around the rules or configuration of the game. My variations were mostly related to wardrobe malfunctions. Sometimes, I would play in high platform shoes. Other times, I would play wearing a three-piece suit. I even played tennis once in 102-degree weather wearing a full-out parka. Laissez les bon temps roulez.
I am starting to feel like John Cusack's character in "High Fidelity" in describing the sum total of my life experiences through numbered lists (even that last statement was an obscure pun--"numbers" leading to a "sum"; get it, yuk, yuk). Oh, for God's sake, let it die now, in the name of being merciful to all.
I am starting to feel like John Cusack's character in "High Fidelity" in describing the sum total of my life experiences through numbered lists (even that last statement was an obscure pun--"numbers" leading to a "sum"; get it, yuk, yuk). Oh, for God's sake, let it die now, in the name of being merciful to all.
Why a Tennis Blog?
Of all the things that I could possibly blog about, here I am starting a tennis blog when maybe I should be trying to work toward world peace (you know, like Miss America does) or perhaps trying to feed the hungry, stop global warming or cure cancer? No, my purpose on this earth is to advance the all-important causes of irreverence and frivolity (hence, the title, "Stuart's Irreverent and Frivolous Tennis Blog"). So that explains the burning question in your mind, "Why irreverent and frivolous?" Here are answers to other questions you may or may not have.
1. "Why 'Stuart'?" Because that is my name. And the name of my uncle before me. And the name of a whole bunch of archaic English monarchs. And that guy who is OK with himself (the one who is played by Al Franken) who used to be on Saturday Night Live and even made a crappy movie.
2. "Why 'Tennis'?" Ahhh, grasshopper. You ask the important question. Let me tell you a story. Actually, it's not much of a story. Yesterday, this strange idea popped into my mind that my New Year's resolution should be to play 365 sets of tennis in 2007. Immediately that scared me. So I decided to slightly cheat by starting early, for two reasons. One, it will give me a handle on whether I can actually play a set a day over the course of a month and a half. And two, it will give me a cushion to get past the inevitable various and multiple injuries that I will incur over the course of trying to play beaucoup tennis. So I really have 365 days plus a month and a half to play 365 sets. Maybe, for background, I should tell you a little about my tennis history. I played a little bit in high school, and, inexplicably, liked it. I wasn't, like, on any tennis team or anything, but I played some, especially in the summertime. This was strange mainly because I have never been into sports one bit. Prior to this time, I was usually the last kid picked on any team at school, and so, as a result, became a "P.E. passive resister." That means that whenever I had to play baseball, for example, I would stand out on the field wherever they sent me, and when the ball came my way, I would just let it roll by. This brought me wicked and twisted enjoyment even as it led to unavoidable violence on my person. What the hell, it was worth it. Fast forward to college. For quite some time, I had thought that anybody who exerted the least bit of physical activity was stupid and deluded. My college roommate and his friends would go home, and I would sit in my dorm room and eat (eating even more to make up for them not being there). One day, against all entropic forces present in the universe, I actually went running with them. Well, since then, I've run in the Capitol 10,000 almost every year, ran to and from work a great deal, taken up swimming, bicycling, and other stuff that involves physical activity. Though my attitude up until the "moment courant" was somewhat slothful, I was never a total slacker (just one more instance of my failure to meet an important goal). Throughout high school, I had five paper routes that I delivered on my bicycle. Let's move forward even more, to the point where I have two young daughters and am trying to figure out how to keep them amused. Since i am a single dad, I am always looking for ways to keep my kids busy. My oldest started taking up tennis when she was about 7. She would go to her group tennis lessons once a week, and my youngest would watch her, just itching to play. One day a kid didn't show up, and the coach invited my youngest to come play. She was so excited, she leaped in, and of course, at age 5, could barely hit the ball, but she loved it. Well, to make a long story short, I started playing with both of them, oldest got bored with tennis, and youngest took it up and is now in championship division, though she recently decided to either quit or take a break. And somewhere along the way, I started playing on my own, with actual adults (disclaimer: nowhere in this useless treatise is contained a comment on the emotional maturity of myself or any of the "actual adults" that I did or did not have tennis relations with--I am simply remarking that many of the people that I play with are old enough to drink themselves stupid and throw away their vote legally). My tennis activity got more and more pronounced and\or notorious, leading to the aforementioned New Year's resolution. And with my youngest daughter not playing right now, I have even more time to devote to playing. There you have it, TMI.
3. "Why a 'blog'?" Dunno. I'm friggin' bored, I guess.
OK, there it is, all laid out like silverware on the table. I will try to post my results, impressions, absurd conjectures and mysterious irrelevant predictions about future catastrophic events (well, maybe not so many of those), and anything else that I come up with as I go along; some of it, hopefully, completely unrelated to my professed purpose here. You will get to see whether I meet my goal or miserably fail, and what causes and stimuli led to either outcome. Maybe I will just trail off into oblivion like most nobly-intentioned blogs (does that adjective even apply to this one? is it even a word?), eventually stopping my comments and leaving behind a dead and skeletal Web page with virtual cobwebs everywhere.
And one caveat: Only an initial or a pseudonym will be used to describe my opponents, to protect them from the consequences of their actions. They know who they are. They can't hide from themselves. Boo-yah. Let the games begin.
1. "Why 'Stuart'?" Because that is my name. And the name of my uncle before me. And the name of a whole bunch of archaic English monarchs. And that guy who is OK with himself (the one who is played by Al Franken) who used to be on Saturday Night Live and even made a crappy movie.
2. "Why 'Tennis'?" Ahhh, grasshopper. You ask the important question. Let me tell you a story. Actually, it's not much of a story. Yesterday, this strange idea popped into my mind that my New Year's resolution should be to play 365 sets of tennis in 2007. Immediately that scared me. So I decided to slightly cheat by starting early, for two reasons. One, it will give me a handle on whether I can actually play a set a day over the course of a month and a half. And two, it will give me a cushion to get past the inevitable various and multiple injuries that I will incur over the course of trying to play beaucoup tennis. So I really have 365 days plus a month and a half to play 365 sets. Maybe, for background, I should tell you a little about my tennis history. I played a little bit in high school, and, inexplicably, liked it. I wasn't, like, on any tennis team or anything, but I played some, especially in the summertime. This was strange mainly because I have never been into sports one bit. Prior to this time, I was usually the last kid picked on any team at school, and so, as a result, became a "P.E. passive resister." That means that whenever I had to play baseball, for example, I would stand out on the field wherever they sent me, and when the ball came my way, I would just let it roll by. This brought me wicked and twisted enjoyment even as it led to unavoidable violence on my person. What the hell, it was worth it. Fast forward to college. For quite some time, I had thought that anybody who exerted the least bit of physical activity was stupid and deluded. My college roommate and his friends would go home, and I would sit in my dorm room and eat (eating even more to make up for them not being there). One day, against all entropic forces present in the universe, I actually went running with them. Well, since then, I've run in the Capitol 10,000 almost every year, ran to and from work a great deal, taken up swimming, bicycling, and other stuff that involves physical activity. Though my attitude up until the "moment courant" was somewhat slothful, I was never a total slacker (just one more instance of my failure to meet an important goal). Throughout high school, I had five paper routes that I delivered on my bicycle. Let's move forward even more, to the point where I have two young daughters and am trying to figure out how to keep them amused. Since i am a single dad, I am always looking for ways to keep my kids busy. My oldest started taking up tennis when she was about 7. She would go to her group tennis lessons once a week, and my youngest would watch her, just itching to play. One day a kid didn't show up, and the coach invited my youngest to come play. She was so excited, she leaped in, and of course, at age 5, could barely hit the ball, but she loved it. Well, to make a long story short, I started playing with both of them, oldest got bored with tennis, and youngest took it up and is now in championship division, though she recently decided to either quit or take a break. And somewhere along the way, I started playing on my own, with actual adults (disclaimer: nowhere in this useless treatise is contained a comment on the emotional maturity of myself or any of the "actual adults" that I did or did not have tennis relations with--I am simply remarking that many of the people that I play with are old enough to drink themselves stupid and throw away their vote legally). My tennis activity got more and more pronounced and\or notorious, leading to the aforementioned New Year's resolution. And with my youngest daughter not playing right now, I have even more time to devote to playing. There you have it, TMI.
3. "Why a 'blog'?" Dunno. I'm friggin' bored, I guess.
OK, there it is, all laid out like silverware on the table. I will try to post my results, impressions, absurd conjectures and mysterious irrelevant predictions about future catastrophic events (well, maybe not so many of those), and anything else that I come up with as I go along; some of it, hopefully, completely unrelated to my professed purpose here. You will get to see whether I meet my goal or miserably fail, and what causes and stimuli led to either outcome. Maybe I will just trail off into oblivion like most nobly-intentioned blogs (does that adjective even apply to this one? is it even a word?), eventually stopping my comments and leaving behind a dead and skeletal Web page with virtual cobwebs everywhere.
And one caveat: Only an initial or a pseudonym will be used to describe my opponents, to protect them from the consequences of their actions. They know who they are. They can't hide from themselves. Boo-yah. Let the games begin.
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