HANNAH #21
The Revenge Match
Can’t we just play ball?
Apparently not! By the time we finally made it onto court, feelings were brewing. My dad wanted to show us that he had picked up some tennis skills and could now hold his own. He could.
Lucy wanted to show us that she was even better than we realized and that they were fully capable of beating us. She said it with a smile, but I wasn’t fooled. She got on court, loudly snapping her gum which was either a strategy to distract us or her way of de-stressing.
And then there’s Ben. He got to the court 15 minutes early so he could run the perimeter in what he calls “warming up my feet.” Apparently, feet are the most important part of a person’s tennis game. I thought it was the hand holding the racquet, but Ben has explained to me otherwise.
“The feet move to the ball and get you lined up so that you can do what comes naturally, which is to watch the ball and hit. Taking small steps, your feet matter most.”
So, after Ben warmed up his feet, he warmed up his serve. He called this “Our weapon” — “our” because I’m on his team. I don’t have a weapon, but I have a positive attitude which I think counts. Ben doesn’t agree, which is why he made me practice every day since book night when we discussed, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
Yes, every day last week, we worked on volleys and serves, but not before I had to run the perimeter of the court and warm up my feet. I protested having to run until I realized there was simply no point:
Ben: You were great the other night when you talked about the importance of holding your gains. You remember, right? That was THE REASON (said with authority) I liked Huck Finn. I am helping you hold your gains in tennis. I would think you’d be happy.
Me: Those weren’t the gains I was talking about.
Ben: Well, you didn’t specify, and since playing tennis has been a big part of our summer, and you’ve really developed your game which started from ground zero, I figured that was one of the gains you were proud of.
Ok, I now understood. There was no winning this, so I just did as Ben asked.
Now came Game Day. It was a warm day, no wind, which meant there would be no excuses when I sprayed a ball long. I played solid. My dad and Lucy played so much better. Either Lucy was a great teacher or my dad’s softball skills had kicked in. Ben was the best, making the most “put-aways,” and guiding our doubles’ strategy.
Again, we ended up in a tiebreaker, but this time they had the momentum. They believed in themselves, as my dad looked to Lucy to see what to do next. To Ben’s complete shock, we lost the match on a small-angled chip shot that landed right in the ally. It was smart, and they hadn’t used that shot before, so we had no reason to anticipate it.
Here is what happened after my dad and Lucy jumped up and down in excitement, hugged, and then came to the net to hug us. I accepted the hug and nodded yes when my dad said, “Great match!” I told my dad I was proud of his progress. I told Lucy she had a smart strategy.
Ben, however, was angry. First, he threw down his racquet. When my dad went to hug him, he tried to move aside, but my dad wouldn’t let him.
This was the exchange that Lucy and I witnessed:
Dad: Ben, I think we had fun, and everyone played good tennis. Isn’t that a win?
Ben: Dad, a win is when you score more points and win more games. So, no, it’s not a win.
Dad: Ben, aren’t you happy that I’ve picked up my game, which means more tennis in our future?
This had Ben quiet as he considered the thought. The idea of more tennis sounded good.
Finally, from Ben,
“I just really wanted to beat you again. We are younger and more athletic, and I’ve been playing tennis for years.”
Lucy laughed and chimed in,
“Ben, you are just turning eleven next week, I believe, so it can’t be ‘for years.’ At 38, I can say, ‘for years.’ You have an amazing game and court presence for someone so young,”
This compliment almost made Ben smile. He finally gave everyone a hug, and we headed home.
I thought we were done with Ben’s raging mood because I did see a smile, and he did manage a hug. But after we got home, whatever I asked of him was met with a grunt. When my dad asked him to set the table, he barked,
“I’m tired of doing everything. Can you just let me alone?”
And then I knew… it was time to share Coach’s second lesson because Ben needed to hear it. Maybe Lucy and my dad would also benefit, reinforcing what they probably already understood.
So we’re at dinner, and the mood is a bit rough. Ben is eating but mostly looking down at his plate. My dad and Lucy made beef tacos which was a smart move. And then I offered this:
Me: A while back, I told you that Coach gave me two lessons, but I only shared one.
Lucy: Yes. I wanted to ask you about the other one, but then I figured, if you didn’t share it, maybe you wanted to keep it private.
Me: I did, but I don’t — any more that is.
Dad: Ok, so please share.
All the while, Ben is still eating while looking down.
Me: Coach told me two things. “The clock can’t always be my master.” And “Sometimes our anger doesn’t know its home.”
Ben (finally looking up): That makes no sense. He’s making anger a traveling person which it’s not. It’s an emotion.
Me: Yes, but he’s using it met-a-phor-i-cally (emphasizing each syllable). Does anybody want to take a guess at what Coach means?
My dad jumped in right away. I think he would have done just about anything to reset our mood.
“I think he is saying that sometimes we show our anger in different places. For example, when I am angry about something at work, I might bring it home and get testy with you or Lucy.”
Me: Ding, ding, ding. You got it. So now, question number 2. Why am I sharing this lesson now?
At this point, Lucy looked at Ben as if,
“Do you want to answer it, or should I?”
There was quiet. Then there was more quiet. And then, just as Lucy was starting to speak, I heard,
“I’ll answer it. You must think, Hannah, that I am angry at losing today, and you must think that I am showing my anger in places that aren’t on the court.”
That is when I said, “Ding, ding, ding.”
Lucy, my dad, and I all laughed. “Ben,” my dad said, “You got that right.”
Ben couldn’t let it go that easily.
“Well, you got right the idea of making beef tacos. So, I guess we can all claim a victory, but next time, I want mine on the court.”
Game over, we were done. Thank God.
This is part of a series, “Hannah’s Journey to be Happy.” The last piece is listed below:
