Rediscovering a lost love

 

My son Patrick with Bjorn Borg in 2007.

Yeah, Maria Sharapova was banned for illegal substances, but my take on tennis isn’t too controversial. It seemed like a safer place to go today with the first round of the French Open beginning tomorrow. “Make like a cat, make like a cat” the gruff, bald instructor yelled as he bounced from one foot to the other and moved his racquet from side to side, ready to pounce on the ball. Not unexpected advice from the man who also delivered a little shock therapy with the whack of a meter stick on the black soapstone lab tables to keep uninspired students motivated in daily 7th grade science classes. “Crush the ball,” the former champion advised as he pulled the racquet low and back, then swung it forward and over, projecting the ball like a bullet. These were motivations and techniques given to me by my coaches, my mentors in a sport I never conquered, but have always loved, both as a player and a spectator.My tennis idol, Roger Federer -- the star I picked because he had the nicest ponytail of the two when he was still mostly unknown playing against Xavier Malisse at the U.S. Open  – will miss his first Grand Slam Tournament in 17 years when he skips this year’s French Open because of an ailing back. I follow his page on Facebook, which is where I first learned about it like this: “I regret to announce that I have made the decision not to play in this year’s French Open. I have been making steady progress with my overall fitness, but I am still not 100% … .”“I regret to announce … .” That opening evokes such fear. How bad is it? Fortunately, it ended with “I look forward to returning to Roland Garros in 2017.” I have been watching and cheering for Federer for almost all of those 17 years. I can’t imagine tennis without him.  He’s just 34, but for the past five years when he stopped winning every tournament he entered, people have been speculating about when he would retire. Although tennis is known as a game for life, the premiere level remains for the young – and that means those under 30.Twenty-five years ago when I was pregnant with my son, I got through the long, hot summer of pregnancy – and especially the last weeks – by watching tennis. That was the year 39-year-old former hot shot tennis player Jimmy Connors was making a renewed run for the U.S. Open title. Jimbo had been viewed as washed up, but he came back from the brink in several early round matches to make it to the semifinals, where he lost to Jim Courier, a future No.1 player. Never a Connors fan, I was intrigued and entertained during the final weeks of a pregnancy that gave me a tennis-playing son.We watched tennis as a family, and played it, too, even though I have a hard time forgiving my husband for playing against me left-handed in the early days. The year we lived in Sweden, the United States was playing Sweden for the Davis Cup title. We liked Pete Sampras, the U.S. star in 1997 well enough, but we couldn’t get enough of watching quick and tenacious Michael Chang. He was ranked No. 2 in the world when the U.S. team came to Gothenburg to take on the Swedes. The United States had the top two players in the world. Sweden had overall strength on its team, but no dominating threat. We were sure the United States would win. We drove across the country to watch the match in November, the coldest, dampest, darkest season of the year in Sweden. We had miniature American flags to wave in the stadium in which we were surrounded by a sea of turquoise and yellow Swedish flags. Chang lost two matches, Sampras another, and the U.S. team fell 5-0 to the Swedes. We were in shock. Chang’s ranking dropped and soon after his career fizzled out. We felt personally responsible. Since then, I’ve become known as a tennis jinx. I root for players, and they lose, even if they were ranked way above opponents.When my son played high school tennis, my nerves became his nerves. If he was down in a match, during the break he would come to the fence, and say to me, "Hey mom. Maybe you should go take a bathroom break." I was the jinx and he needed to have me remove that jinx for a little so he could get back to winning, which he usually did. We used the "remove the jinx" tactic during one tough match against a high school whose top two players were exchange students. My son was playing the exchange student from Venezuela, with long dark hair and growth on his face. He looked intimidating, and he was. Patrick ended up losing that match to Diego, but later in a conference championship match, Patrick won. That fall, I recognized Diego when he came into the tutoring center where I worked. He said he had decided to stay in the United States for college. He often came home with me for tennis with Patrick and dinner. Our family remains friends with him many years later thanks to that tennis connection.The U.S. loss to Sweden in the Davis Cup finals was tough, but my son was able to move past it 10 years later when he returned to Sweden as a 15-year-old exchange student. He he took lessons and played tennis at Bjorn Borg’s former tennis club. Patrick’s host dad, also a tennis enthusiast, was a pretty famous national television personality in Sweden, and before the start of an international tennis tournament being played in Stockholm that he was covering, he took Patrick with him to meet Borg. That’s tennis glitterati and a brush with fame moment even if the Swedes had beaten up on the Americans in his early years.Our family made a nearly annual pilgrimage to the U.S. Open for a day of tennis for many years. We saw Rafael Nadal play doubles on an outside court as a teenager where we could sit in the front row just feet from the future star. We watched Jennifer Capriati’s final match from our nose-bleed seats in Arthur Ashe stadium. We discovered new favorites in Monfils, Ferrer, Verdasco, Wozniakci. We loved every second of it. Then, college, jobs, football, and life began to get in the way. We no longer go to the Open. We haven’t bonded with Djokovic or Murray, Williams or Radwanska.Nadal hasn’t played well in several years. He had injuries and he began to appear scared on the court. He’s back in the French Open, which he owns with nine victories there, and claims to have conquered his demons. Federer won’t be there, but I can’t let his aging problems determine mine. I have to watch, see what the new players have to offer and move forward. Serena’s going for a Serena Slam, Djokovic has shown more sportsmanship in recent wins, Murray still annoys me with his sullen, scolded child behavior, the United States might have some stars rising to replace the aging Williams sisters and non-existent proven male stars, and Nadal is back, ready to win. Vive la France!