My first tennis memory is of my father playing tennis at a small tennis club in Bayside, NY.  He let me come on the court to swing the racquet and hit a few balls.  I was 5 and the tennis racquet was made of wood and it was heavy.  They were amazed I could hit the ball so well.  At 7, I started tennis lessons.  I was always the strongest in the group, but I had no focus and had difficulty finishing drills.  I didn’t much like the lessons, but I did them because my dad wanted me to, but all they did during the lesson was talk about my dad and his tennis history.  Most kids didn’t like me, but I was able to beat them in tennis so they stayed quiet.

At the age of 12, my family lived in Kings Point and my dad had built a tennis court in our backyard.  My dad would pay former tennis students, now accomplished players in their own right, to come and teach my sister, two friends, and me tennis.  And it seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I didn’t get better.  Add to that the constant insults from my sister and her friend, and I lost it.  One day during a lesson, I lost my temper and I threw my racket over the fence. I then climbed onto the roof of the house and didn’t come down until nighttime. 

My father took tennis away from me that day.  I would sit in my room and watch others play.  When I was 15, I had a bunch of friends come over and we were allowed to use the court.  We goofed around for hours, my friend Simon sprained his ankle (he would always remind me of this for years), and I fell in love with tennis again.  The next day, my mom asked me to be a fourth for one of her games. It was the first serious tennis I had played in two years.  My tennis had improved - not only had it improved, I was impressive.  My parents rewarded me by enrolling me in a junior development program that allowed kids to play free on any open time.  So I did, every weekend.

I did well at this program, but wanted to prove myself in tennis tournaments. I lost the first two matches in the first round.  My Dad would yell at me to behave on the court and I could see his embarrassment with my performance and immaturity.  We fought often and by 17, he took my racquet and told me never to play again.  I did play again, and my skill level was only eclipsed by my lack of focus and uncontrollable temper on the court.  No matter how well I played on my college team, I never achieve a consistent high level of play.  My temper always won. 

I taught tennis after college and no matter how well I did, my father was never impressed and never supported me in getting ahead in the business even though he had all the contacts.  While teaching tennis, my game improved but my playing was still negatively impacted by my behavior and attitude.  I couldn’t seem to be consistent and feel comfortable on the court.  The sadness of the situation was clear, I was in love with a game I had no idea how to enjoy!  I had been instructed by some of the most famous tennis teachers around, and still I had no idea about the dynamic of enjoyment. 

Life took me from teaching tennis, but I returned to teaching more than once.  Each time, I faced the idea of enjoying teaching, but had difficulty with the management.  Somehow, I would screw things up, and I would quit or get fired, and tennis became this shiny gem that others would possess. But not me.  What was wrong with me?  It turns out nothing. I just learned by watching my dad, not from words spoken to me, but the actions I witnessed.  I had not realized it, but my Ego Ideal was my father, he was who I wanted to be.  I learned by copying him.

A glass that is full, cannot be filled up.  If I had all this knowledge and experience in my head, I had no room for something new.  So I emptied my mind and started just hitting against a wall: no pressure, no expectations.  At the age of 46, I had lost weight, started regular Yoga practice, and found that after losing my father, that tennis was a way to feel closer to him.  I was at peace, and without thinking about it, I hit for over an hour.  I returned as often as I could.  My game had changed greatly over time, starting with adult wood racquets at 5 and 40 years later playing with a Head Speed Lite.  The game’s mechanics had be altered based on the new equipment, and hitting hard and with lots of spin was the style being played. 

My game is like a beautiful mosaic of techniques and for teaching it’s brilliant, for playing, it sucks! So I changed my game.  My forehand got good quickly, and I found myself playing better and better.  People on the tennis courts next to the wall took notice and invited me to play.  After years of being a tennis instructor, I tend not to play with strangers, but that day I did.  We played for hours and somehow, I didn’t miss a single ground stroke, I had turned into a human backboard.  My healthy body allowed me to move easily on the court and I found myself getting almost every ball.  How did this happen?  I had no lessons, no live hitting practice, just the wall, and here I was playing at the highest level of my life at 46?

Now 8 years later, I’m playing extremely well.  I burnt out my hip and needed it replaced, but I have found my way back to the court and am in the best shape of my life.  How? I yield to the universe and react to the present.  I still get nervous playing games, but the anxiety is gone, the anger and frustration non-existent.  First, to be peaceful on the court, one must be in shape and healthy enough to play without concern of injury.  Secondly, be prepared for playing.  Always have water and some form of quick nourishment.  Make sure your equipment is good and that your racquet is strung properly.  Stretch before and after tennis, pre-hydrate before playing.  Most of all, the idea of winning and losing is obscure, so focus on your breath and preparation to hit.  We all miss and we all lose, so if you make that the determination of fun, you can never achieve it.  Instead be one with the Tao and allow yourself to disappear into the game and the shots.  Bliss!