final draft Long Essay
Match Point
Love
I was sitting in my
freshmen orientation class in high school when a few girls came in asking if
anyone wanted to join the tennis team. I had never played tennis before and had
no idea how. No one was getting up, then the girl next to me asks if I wanted to
try it out. We stood up signed our names on the sheet and I didn't think much
of it. I was starting a new school and joining a the tennis team might help me
make some friends.
The other girl changed
her mind.
So there I was, a
freshmen, lined up with other freshmen girls who signed up to join the team.
There weren't many of us so no one was getting cut. That was a relief, no
matter how terrible I was I could still be a part of the team.
It was interesting to
find out that even though we weren't great players (yet) we could still have
fun learning this new game. That's the thing about being raised in the
inner-city, games like tennis require practice and money (if you want to be
good at it) so there weren't many kids who had learned to play it growing up.
Every day I would get
home sore, hardly being able to move without feeling pain in all my aching
muscles. But every single day I looked forward to the end of classes so I could
get back on the court. The pain meant that we were working hard and that work
yielded improvement so I wasn't going to stop. I have never felt happier or
more invigorated than when I stepped onto the tennis courts.
Love-15
After a year of being on
the tennis team we had actually come a long way and improved our skills. We
stayed in shape during the winter and spring then had an intensive clinic for a
month in the summer. By the time fall rolled around we were ready to face our
opponents.
I noticed it during
class first. My hand would cramp up when I wrote for too long and it became
impossible for me to hold a pen. My wrist would ache and the area between my
thumb and my index finger looked like I got stung by a bee. In reality it was
swollen because the tendons had taken a severe beating with all the tennis I
had been playing. The doctor said it was tendinitis. Great.
At that point maybe I
should have stopped. I should have rested my wrist to make sure it didn't get any
worse.
Playing tennis was the
only way I knew how to grow to accept my body. I was the chunky shy girl who
suffered from asthma so I didn’t like to participate in gym class. But playing
tennis it didn't matter because I could keep up during a match. I knew how to
compensate for speed by hitting harder and smarter shots. I was not about to
give that up.
So I bought a wrist
brace instead.
Love-30
Summer heat can be
annoying and uncomfortable. For someone with asthma it could
make breathing damn near impossible. High levels of humidity and high
temperatures are not a good mix for my asthma.
The double practice
sessions during the summer in preparation for the fall season at Kean were
torturous. After playing with a wrist injury for 3 years in high school I was
used to that discomfort so I learned to ice my wrist and hand after every
practice/match. But my asthma was a different beast that could not be kept at
bay.
"Come on! You're
almost done, just one more lap."
That one lap seemed like
trying to run across the U.S. with no water along the way. I felt like I was
suffocating but I kept going because I didn't want my teammates to think I
wasn't trying hard enough or couldn't finish the lap because I was lazy. That
plan never went well though. I either ended up needing to stop because I got
dizzy or threw up. Sometimes both.
I wasn't the only one
who had problems though. It was something else that united the team, not only
did we love the game but our injuries where a testament to our dedication. Our
coach never made us play if we were injured, so we didn’t complain about our
injuries and hoped we didn't fall apart during the match. Our first singles
player played most of the season bandaged practically from head to toe. She had
her wrists, knees, ankles, and thigh taped for each match. Despite all her
injuries she was one of the best players on the team and she never gave up
during a match.
Giving up during a match
is not something I consciously did, but there was always a little voice in the
back of my head during a challenging match telling me that I couldn't do it.
That I wasn't in good enough shape, that my shots where off. During a
tournament at Drew University all my other teammates had gotten eliminated, but
I made the final rounds. It was a tough match that kept flip flopping between
me and my opponent. Then I lost two games in a row and thought for sure that it
was over. Then one of the assistant coaches came up to me during a switch and
she said "You're faster than you think."
I didn’t know what she
meant by that at first. I didn't think I was fast at all. Then I noticed it. I
kept running into the ball, which meant that I was going faster than I thought
and needed to prepare my shot sooner. These other girls ran their laps and
looked like models and I could keep up with them on a tennis court. That had
not crossed my mind until I realized that it didn’t matter that I wasn't the perfect
picture of an athletic body. I was an athlete who performed the task just as
well as the traditionally built girls I was playing with as well as against. Tennis
is about more than physical capability; once my head was in the game again I
was able to win the set. And although I did not win that match I left satisfied
that I had made my opponent work hard for that victory, that I was someone who
could challenge her abilities and even defeat her if she made too many mistakes.
Had the assistant coach
not told me that I was faster than I thought during that match I would have
probably been defeated both on that court and in my mind. Once you start losing
in a match you keep track of every single unforced error you make and that just
makes things all the worse. The fastest way to end a match is to lose
confidence…or get injured. There was an away match and the team was down by two
matches. My friend, our second singles player, was down by a few games during
her match. I was sitting watching another match going on when I notice my coach
going over to my friends court. Apparently something had happened and they had
called the trainer over. She was crying and obviously something was wrong. The
trainer taped up my friends wrist, apparently that was the problem, and she
continued to play.
When my coach came back
I asked her what happened to cause the injury and she said "she was overwhelmed."
There was not wrist injury. My friend just had a breakdown because she was
losing the match and was getting frustrated with herself.
The wrist injury would have
been easier to deal with.
Love-40
Body aches are part of life when you're playing a sport. It's expected for something to hurt and the remedy is to ice it, take some Advil and push through it. If it still hurts, you ice it again. My shoulder was a different beast compared to the injuries I had before. Wrist pain, knee pain, tendinitis on my ankle; all things I learned to cope with. But my shoulder was not cooperating. A sore shoulder was a normal thing when you spent all day playing tennis, the constant motions for serving and hitting the ball is a workout. But my shoulder pain went down to my elbow and gave me a stiff neck. Not good signs.
The strain on my
shoulder caused my wrist to feel worse. There was swelling and reduction of
sensation, meaning some sort of nerve damage.
I went to the first few
practices of the 2010 season despite the pain. My hand swelled up and looked
more like I had a golf ball stuck under the skin between my thumb and index
finger. After 3 practices the pain was unbearable and I had to quit the team.
It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. I couldn't even say it out
loud; instead I emailed my coach telling her I wasn't going back.
Game
7am my alarm goes off, I
reach for it and feel excruciating pain rush down my back. I was
laying on my stomach and I couldn't turn myself around. There was no one to
call, no was home to help me and I could't reach my phone. I tried to push
myself up from the bed but any force I did immediately sent sharp pain up my
arms and down my back. I couldn't move my legs either, that sent pain up my
back.
I was stuck.
My heart was racing, I
was panicking. How could I get myself up.I can't keep my head up, my neck was
hurting. I had to figure out a way out of bed.
I locked my jaw and
pushed myself up on my elbows. I fell back down.
I locked my jaw and
pushed myself up on my elbows. I fought through the pain and let one arm fall
so I could lay on my side. Then I laid on my back. Then I caught my breath. It
didn't matter that my room was cold, I was sweating. It felt like I was on top
of a volcano ready to explode as I felt each pulse of my muscles twitching and
the pain that accompanied it.
There was no way I would
be able to sit up. The pain went from my back to my ribs. Even my chest hurt.
Breathing hurt. With each breath a new wave of pain came over me.
I rolled my legs, very
slowly, to the side of my bed. Once my feet touched the floor I could try and
get up. I used my arms to prop myself up and hoped that my legs wouldn't give
out from the pain. I would not be able to getup from the floor if I fell.
I stood up and walked
slowly to my door and up the stairs. I got some medicine and then went to lay
back down again.
The doctor says my
muscles were spastic. It turns out that my shoulder pain was result of
a dislocated bone in my posterior rib cage. After
some physical therapy the pain went down and I was able to function.
But now any heavy lifting or sleeping wrong could cause my back muscles to
spasm. Apparently all those months of physical therapy did nothing to fix the
problem.
I went to see an
orthopedic surgeon who wants me to get scans in order to see what the problem
is. It's been a year since he ordered the scans and I still haven't gotten them
done. At first I thought it was just laziness in my part, but really
I just don't want my worse fears to come true. If I need surgery it
will take 3-6 months to recover. I suffered enough from all these injuries and
if I have surgery I would need to put my life on hold. I know that in the end
it would be better to get the surgery and fix the problem, but I've gotten so
used to this pain that I don't know how it feels to live without it.
I guess I'm reluctant to
let go of this pain just as I was reluctant to let go of tennis years ago. Despite
knowing all of this I still would not have given up tennis without being forced
out.
