Today my mom and I were equipped with our racquets and set of tennis balls as we went to play tennis at our town’s park. Since we haven’t played tennis since 2001, we were very curious to see how we would perform on the courts. As we entered the area for the tennis courts, we took the only available tennis court and began to play.
We got a nice volley going back and fourth to get warmed up and it became painfully obvious that we were amateurs at the sport. At first, our tennis balls kept flying onto the adjacent court where four older men were playing doubles and they didn’t like the idea of our Penn tennis balls coming anywhere near their Slazenger tennis racquets. Each time the ball rolled anywhere near their court, they would dramatically shield their racquet with a facial expression that communicated “don’t worry baby slaz, I won’t let the poor-puny-penn ball come near your pretty little head.” They were just a tad bit over dramatic.
Eventually we got a nice game going and began to get a little workout. The longer I played, the more intense I got. During one play, I hit the ball with 65% of my power (which is equivalent to the power of a herd of competitive bison during mating season), which shot the ball past the other side of the court, over the fence and into a tree outside the park. Sometimes my strength surprises me.
When we were wrapping up our game, the older men’s tennis balls kept rolling onto our court. My first inclination was to hit them over the fence with 100% of my power and then scream out “let’s see your Slazenger do that!!!” but instead I quietly returned the ball to its rightful owner, because I’m a gentleman. You hear that mom?? Your son is a gentleman!!