I thought I won my first game of tennis against my imaginary friend, but according to my new bar manager I need to get more than one serve in the box.
Last week my coach told me to do one thing: practice my toss. I arrive at my lesson yesterday. She asks,
“Are you ready to serve?”
I hang my head. Years of piano lessons come rushing to my mind. I’d go once a week; I loved going, but I had little desire to practice in between. I tell my tennis coach,
“I didn’t practice.”
She shakes her head. She’s right. I could’ve devoted ten minutes of skort shopping time to practice time. Maybe next week. But probably not.
I can still play any one-handed Disney song on the piano. So the moral is that if I take enough tennis lessons, I’ll be able to play as well as any five-year-old without ever practicing.