Champion

CHAMPION

         The sun had warmed, boiled, breaded, and shredded my nose many hours ago and left it simmering in the early evening heat. Salt sweat stung my eyes as it trickled down my forehead. The taste of perspiration and sunscreen on my lips was nauseating. The blood in my throat was the result of dehydration and physical exhaustion, not the desire to win. Every muscle in my body smarted. I once again over-extended the muscle behind my right shoulder and it painfully pulsated with every erratic throb of my heart.

         However, the physical toll my body endured I could handle; it was part of the game. Instead, it was the petulant tempest storming in my head that was destroying me. String after string of negative thoughts pumped through my mind. I can't do this. I can't do this. I cannot do this. What am I doing here? What business do I have to be here? How can I humiliate myself in this way? I cannot do this. This girl, this idol, on the other side of the net is the number one girl's tennis player in the state. I am only Roosevelt's number seven. What business do I have playing her? I can never beat her. I cannot possibly win.

         I watched dolefully as the first set flew by. I protracted this way, jerked that, flailed here, dove there, but all to no avail. I was growing increasingly physically and mentally powerless. I wanted the match to reach a conclusion. I wanted to approach the net, despondently shake her hand and crawl off the court. Instead, I had to submit myself to double fault after double fault, mistake after mistake. Tears welled in my eyes, but whether it was through stinging sweat or frustration I was not sure. All I knew was, beneath my neon titian sunglasses, I cried.

         The end of the first set required us to switch sides. At this point, I broke one of my cardinal rules in tennis; I sat down during the change-over. I held a firm belief that sitting down in the middle of a tennis match cedesd all built up energy to the bench upon which I sat. The bench would guzzle its new energy like I would guzzle water from my water bottle. Today, however, I had no energy to convey to the bench. Today, I hoped the bench had reserved a few extra morsels for me.

         Begrudgingly, I stood and walked, with the balls, to my new side of the court, but something had changed. My body held a new sensation. Was it the water? Was it the bench? I didn't believe it was either of those reasons. In that change-over, my mind had cleared, the clouds had receded and I witnessed a new aspect of the game. No, I could not defeat this girl, but that didn't mean I could not still play the game.

         I let the ball tango in my hands for a few moments before I bounced it, preparing for my serve. I stretched my body up towards the ball more than I ever had before. As I reached up, my body, mind and spirit were the epitome of relaxation. Ace, my point. The serve was the best I had delivered all season. A tingle of satisfaction flit through me. I served again. Ace, another point. I served for a third time; this time she returned it. We rallied the ball for nearly a minute. The remainder of the game proceeded this way. Finally, we tied at four points each. I turned around and looked at my coach; she gave me a nod of encouragement. Once I again, I stretched and served. Ace, my point, my game. I had achieved it. I had taken one game away from her. Sure, it was only one out of the thirteen we played. Sure, she won the other twelve. But, I had taken one game away from her.

         It was not the fact that I had beaten her in one game that I reveled in, it was the fact that, in order to gain that win, I had to play the best tennis of my life. It may have been only for ten minutes, but it was worth every second. I fought dynamically the rest of the set although the score showed little evidence of it. Nevertheless, when the match was over, I shook her hand confidently. Whether she was aware of it or not, she had taught me an invaluable lesson. How I played was not reflected by the score, it was reflected by my attitude, my performance, how I knew I had played the game. She may have been the best player, but I played my best tennis. That evening, I walked off the court with resilience in my step and a smile on my face. That day, I was the champion