My Journey to College Tennis: How It All Began
You know, it’s funny looking back. I never really saw myself as a “tennis guy.” Not at all. Football, basketball – those were the games everyone was into where I grew up. Tennis felt a bit… well, different. But life has a funny way of throwing curveballs, or in this case, tennis balls.
My real dive into this whole tennis thing started pretty randomly. I was probably around 13, just messing about during summer. I saw some older kids playing at the local park courts, and honestly, they weren’t amazing, but they were having a blast, and it looked kinda cool, the way they moved, the sound of the ball. So, I thought, why not? I managed to get my hands on an old, beat-up racket – pretty sure it was my aunt’s, covered in dust in the garage. My first few attempts? Absolutely terrible. I mean, laughably bad. I was whiffing the ball, sending it into the fences, over the fences, everywhere but where I wanted it to go.
But something about it stuck. Maybe it was the challenge. I started going to the park by myself, hitting against the practice wall. Just thwack, thwack, thwack. For hours. I didn’t have any lessons, no fancy gear. Just me, that old racket, and a determination to just get the ball over the net consistently if I ever played a real person. My early “practice record” was basically just showing up and hitting until my arm felt like jelly. I’d tell myself, “Okay, today, 100 forehands against the wall without missing.” Usually failed, but I kept at it.
Slowly, very slowly, I got a tiny bit better. I could hold a rally for more than two shots. Then I started playing actual games with anyone who was willing. Mostly got crushed, but every point I won felt like a massive victory. High school came around, and I tried out for the team. Made it, but I was definitely not a star player. More like a solid, dependable guy who worked hard. That’s where the idea of college tennis first even flickered into my brain. I saw some of the top guys from other schools, heard them talking about college teams, and a little spark ignited. Could I do that? Seemed like a massive leap.
Getting Serious: The Grind to College Level
That’s when my “practice” really had to change. It wasn’t just about hitting balls anymore. I started to think. I watched better players. I asked our coach tons of questions. I realized I needed more than just enthusiasm; I needed a plan. My “records” became a bit more structured, even if it was just in a battered notebook.
- Consistency Drills: I’d spend an hour just on crosscourt forehands. Then an hour on crosscourt backhands. The goal was simple: get it in, deep, over and over.
- Serve Practice: Buckets and buckets of serves. I’d aim for targets, work on my slice, try to get more kick. My shoulder was permanently sore, I swear.
- Fitness: This was a big one. I realized tennis wasn’t just about hitting. I started running, doing sprints, agility drills. Man, that was tough. I wasn’t a natural runner.
- Weaknesses: My backhand was a mess. So, I spent extra time on it. My volleys weren’t great either, so I’d try to get to the net in practice games, even if I got passed a lot.
It was a grind. There were so many times I wanted to quit. Losing matches I thought I should win. Getting frustrated when I couldn’t master a new technique. Early mornings before school, late evenings after homework. My parents thought I was a bit nuts, but they supported me, which meant the world.
I started playing more tournaments, local stuff, nothing fancy. The results were up and down. But I kept that notebook, scribbling down what went wrong, what went right, what I needed to drill next week. I sent out feeler emails to a bunch of college coaches – Division II, Division III schools, places I thought I might, just might, have a shot. Sent them my shabby little “tennis resume” and any video I could scrape together from my matches.
And then, it happened. A couple of coaches actually responded. One invited me for a visit. Walking onto that college campus, meeting the team, seeing their facilities… it felt surreal. It wasn’t a top D1 program, not by a long shot. But it was college tennis. And they were interested in me. After all that hitting against the wall, all those lost matches, all those early mornings. It was like, wow, this crazy idea actually worked.
So yeah, that’s my college tennis origin story. No magic, no incredible natural talent. Just a lot of showing up, a lot of hitting, and a stubborn refusal to believe I couldn’t get a little bit better each day. It taught me a ton, and honestly, I wouldn’t trade those gritty practice sessions for anything.