Taking Part?
A Personal Story from the Tennis Court

Last Saturday I could hardly move my left arm. I felt overwhelmed by anxiety. Not so much because of the inconvenience - having just one arm operational is not much when your wife is heavily pregnant and there is a two-year-old running around - but most of all because of the Eurogames. How will I tell my doubles partner? About six months ago Jacky asked me if I wanted to take part is the tennis tournament in our own town. Didn't I play tennis before? Yes, but that was 25 years ago. Other than not having a racket, tennis shoes or a good condition, I could not come up with any objections. So I gave in.

We had months ahead in which we could practice. But time slipped through our hands like little grains of sand and before we knew it, there were only two weeks left before the opening. In the end we managed to find two nights for some training. The first training match went really well, our opponents made enough mistakes to hide our ignorance. The second night went a lot worse. I kept on hitting the ball wide. My body was vaguely remembering the repertory of strokes. Wasn't there a slice backhand in here? Where had it gone? What was a drop shot like. Serving is such an unnatural motion that I used muscles that I had forgotten all about these past 25 years. A sort of a double backflip for biceps and monkshood muscle. About three-quarters of my services went either in the net or against the fence. "It is looking good," Jacky is coaching cheerfully. Yes, if tennis were a jury game such as figure skating, we stood a chance.

So my arm was not to pleased with the second training session. But the pain withdrew rather fast, luckily. Our expectations have therefore been adjusted: we now aim at winning in the losers' round. Today at 17:00 we will walk on the court. The Olympic idea is playing around in my head. Taking part! It is a good thing that we already received a medal at the accreditation yesterday.