My first tennis lesson was a success. My tennis coach is an aggressive petite older woman. As I wait for her to hit the ball to me I’m supposed to be hopping from foot to foot, but what with thinking about hitting the ball and trying to hit the ball I forget to hop. Her voice booms across the court,
This lady means business.
She asks me,
“What level are you?”
“I took lessons as a kid, but I don’t remember much.”
What I do remember is how hot it was and how much I looked forward to lunch.
“What are you hoping to accomplish?”
“I’d like to be able to play with my friends who are decent.”
“We can do that. I’m not gonna be able to turn you into a pro, but we can get you so you can play.”
After an hour of hitting balls in the general direction of the other side of the court. She tells me,
“The good news is you’re already in shape and you have decent hand-eye coordination. There are some people who can’t even hit the ball when I drop it right in front of them.”
So you’re saying I’m not the worst ever.