Their Days of Nights

42 : Court

July 2011

Benjamin

His two-handed backhand places the ball in the middle of the court and to my left. I run and catch it. And with my two-handed backhand as well, I return the ball to him.

Our next rally is more relaxed, with less running, but we're exchanging power smashes. It's part of the drills. And it's also tiring.

He misses my shot and chases the ball at the end of his side.

We're in the covered court where I frequently train or play with my dad or some of the people we know. The court is small, and it's humid inside, but I like that it doesn't attract many people. There are just three of us here right now.

I'm practicing tonight with Ernie, one of the regular and better players in this club. He tosses the ball back to me and tells me to serve.

I hit the net. That's the third time for tonight. I know I'm not a serve-bot, but I need to work on getting my serves in. That's what he's been telling me ever since.

"It's okay," Ernie shouts. "Relax. Don't rush."

I breathe in and out. Then I kick-serve again.

The ball goes in, and my practice mentor returns it accurately near the service line. I hit it back with my forehand. The ball travels past Ernie and lands near the corner by the end of the singles line.

"Nice shot," he says. "A third-ball play."

Good, I think. I need that boost of confidence. If I can keep the accuracy with my game, I can do well with my upcoming match.

He walks back near the wall and collects the tennis balls. "Hey, sorry, but I have to call it a day...or night," he says as he stands next to the net.

"It's okay," I say.

"You can keep practicing your serve. Then you're good."

"I'll...yeah...I'll do that. Thanks."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Rest well. And, uh..." He glances at the side of the court for a second. "Just tell her it's nice meeting her. Seems like she can't be bothered."

Kim is now half-lying on the hard floor on the right side of the court. She has her knees up, and her head is resting on my duffel bag. She's still reading a book. I asked her to come with me here, and I agreed that she can bring what she's reading, so she won't get bored. And Ernie's right, it seems like she couldn't care less about what's going on here. She's so engrossed in it.

She moves one of her legs and drops it down on the floor. And that's so...

"Right," I say to Ernie. "Yes. Sure."

He gives me the pack of used tennis balls. Then he turns around and starts heading out.

I walk back to the end of the line, turning the ball over and over in my hand.

It's not like I've never competed before. I played competitively in the past. Come to think of it, tomorrow's match isn't much of a big deal. Things are a bit slow and uneventful here lately since it's the rainy season, so the humble tennis club of this place is having an indoor tournament. But still, and for one obvious reason, I want to win. It doesn't have to be a landslide victory. I just don't want to lose.

He's also right that I need to improve on my serve. So, I toss up the ball and hit it.

Serve's in.

Serve again. In.

Again. Out.

Okay. That's alright. Focus.