Saturday, July 28, 2007

In the middle of hardcourt

At eight in the morning, the sun is already stifling. And there I am, being boiled--literally. Beads of sweat are trickling on my face and arms that I have to wipe them with my muddied shirt every so often.

I am a player in the hardcourt.

The Trainer motions me to come near. "Hit from the baseline. I want to see the form. Look at the ball. Don't hit too hard. Just stroke it." I hear the words like a faint whisper. In my mind, I silently repeat them as I grip the racket tightly as if my life depended on it.

I squint at the approaching yellow ball. I twist my body, bend my knees a bit, with my right foot slightly forward, to hit the ball with a proper forehand. Tok. The ball hits my racket and moves on to the other side--a little off target, but it's considered in. I think I did well. For now, at least.

I see a smile on the Trainer's face. Is it of approval? I'm really not so sure, until he says, "Good."

For a while there, I forget the throbbing pain in my right wrist and the aching in my arms and the fact that I look like toasted bread after hours of sunlight exposure. Tennis has never been this fun.



Blogger poy said...

Is this fact or fiction?

Sun Jul 29, 12:14:00 PM GMT+8  
Blogger Lance said...

I'm afraid it's fact.

Sun Jul 29, 01:22:00 PM GMT+8  
Blogger delusion angel said...

nice one! ^_^

ikaw pa lang kakila ko na nagrereklamo sa init ng araw sa tennis court. =p

Mon Jul 30, 12:28:00 PM GMT+8  

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