Tennis: More Than Just A Game

The first time I noticed tennis was on a family trip to the Oregon Coast. It was late at night, and while flipping through channels, we paused on the Men’s US Open Quarterfinal. Maybe it was because of the way the players moved across the court, with sharp yet elegant intensity. Maybe it was because of the sound of the ball hitting the strings, a rhythmic pop as the crowd’s tension cloaked the air like fog. Whatever it was, we couldn’t look away. I couldn’t look away. 

What I saw was nothing like the polite rallies I’d imagined. This was fast, strategic, brutally physical. Every point felt like a chess match at full sprint. It was instinct and calculation, elegance and endurance, all colliding. 

The next morning, I found myself watching clips of matches, learning the rules, the history, and the strategies. But watching didn’t feel enough. I wanted to feel it. I convinced my younger brother to be my practice partner, and soon I was taking lessons, attending camps, and chasing every opportunity to improve. 

By freshman year, I made the Westview Girls’ Tennis Team. I started nervous, unsure if I could keep up, but showing up consistently, chasing every ball, and learning from every mistake earned me a spot as a Varsity Doubles player. The wins and matches were meaningful, but what stayed with me even more were the in-between moments. Like finding out that my doubles partner would soon become one of my best friends. Or helping JV run drills, stay motivated, and feel like a part of the team. And surprisingly, the oddly therapeutic sound of tennis balls popping off racket strings. 

Tennis became more than just a sport. It became this sort of magical elixir. Everyone drinks it for different reasons: some for the competition, some for the clarity, some for the community. But somehow, we all walk off the court with the same rush. Tennis taught me patience, grit, and the value of small, steady progress: lessons that live with me far beyond the lines of the court.