Around 1:30 yesterday I looked at my watch and noted that Phil had been playing for about an hour and a half. Hopefully he'd be calling soon with news of his final results from Longboat Key. The phone rang about ten minutes later and it was him. My stomach always drops with nerves right before I answer. With this call my heart dropped. He lost 6-1, 6-2. I could feel his extreme disappointment through the phone.
By most standards Phil has had a great year. He reached either the semis or finals in doubles of all the cat l nationals he played. He reached a singles final of a cat l and cat ll tournament. Earlier this year, while still just playing doubles, he won a cat ll doubles. He just wasn't able to win the big matches. In some cases he was outplayed, but according to to him, it seemed that he didn't play his best due to nerves. Boy do I know that drill!
We both sit in shock and awe after we come off the court losing a match that we know was so winnable, but our nerves got the best of us. Having played as many matches through the years as we both have, how does that happen all the sudden? We tell ourselves all the right things to do. We train hard off the court to allow ourselves to be in winning positions, but when it comes time to putting it all out there, the forehand breaks down, or the toss goes awry, or the backhand leaves the country. It feels like an out of body experience.
After a couple of days of reflection, we seem to recover. Practice and training sessions start all over again, tournament schedules are thought out, equipment is tweaked, and we're back at it.
The feeling of despair is quickly softened with hugs, fresh chocolate chip cookies, and a crushed ice coke.
We'll be ready in March for the national husband/wife.
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