Tennis – such a lovely sport. Watching a bright green ball fly from one side of a dark green court to another. Actually getting in the game, swinging your racket in just the right position, just the right spot, hitting the tennis ball and smiling in satisfaction of your perfect hit.
But perhaps you’re not perfect at tennis. Maybe you don’t play at Wimbledon. Maybe every time you swing your racket, you’ll miss. Maybe once in a while, when you actually hit it, the ball doesn’t go anywhere where you expect it.
But you know what? You keep on going. You don’t stop. Because that’s what sports – that’s what tennis – is about: trying, failing, and trying, until you succeed. And enjoying every step of the way. Because whether you’re playing against a brick wall, or whether you’re playing with friends at night and the mosquitoes are biting and the heat is stunning but you don’t care, or even if you play at Wimbledon along with the big names, or even if you are one of the big names in tennis – you don’t stop.
Because that’s what tennis is all about. That’s what sports are about. Now stop reading, go forth, go for your dreams, and keep in mind these principles that I’ve used for tennis – don’t stop, keep going, and try, fail, try, and succeed. Most importantly, have fun every step of the way.
It is free time at a summer camp we have lovingly dubbed “nerd camp”. For one hour, we are free to do whatever we choose, within reason. Many of us watch television – the World Cup games are exciting, after all. Some go outside and play in the sun. Yet an entire group of people do neither of these things.
Instead of watching soccer – World Cup is only on so much of the time – or playing outside (and getting all sweaty and gross), around ten people chose to watch chess.
The idea of watching chess anywhere else but “nerd camp” may be strange. It is very hard to invite a friend over and ask them to play chess. While chess is certainly a fun game, given many other options, it’s usually not a person’s first choice.
Prose and poetry done at a recent writing class.
“The visiting times have ended,” a nurse said to Jason. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but rules are rules, and you’ll have to leave now. You’re welcome to come back tomorrow morning.”
Jason watched the heart monitor screen fluctuate – up and down, up and down. IV tubing delivered medicines and saline into his daughter Eliza’s arm. Her face bore no emotion.
He was quiet. Eliza’s skin was pale. Jason reached forward, touching her tender lips. He wanted her to talk. To speak to him. To smile. To say hello.
No sounds came out of her lips. She did not move. The steady beeps of the heart monitor continued. Memories flashed through Jason’s mind.