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Mrs. 'Boro: Love for tennis still strong



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I love tennis. I rarely play any more, but for 14 years it was a twice-a-week hobby and my best friend.

My children used to say: “You’re always in the best mood when you’re going to play tennis.” I stopped playing because we canceled our membership at my tennis club, and I never took the initiative to find another group. And while my sore feet don’t feel left out, my psyche misses it 100 percent.

My mom and dad played when they were young, and most of my seven siblings and their spouses play. I didn’t start playing until I was 50. We never have trouble finding a game when I am in Knoxville; someone is always at beck and call. I started when son John, my youngest, was 11.

I had “retired” from work and took my children swimming during the daytime. All the mothers sitting around the pool decided to head to the tennis courts and the rest is ... well, you know. I had a terrible forehand, a somewhat better backhand and was never very good. In fact, my first instructor told me I’d “never be a tennis player.” I didn’t care. I just wanted to be able to play in tournaments at conventions we attended and take clinics while we were on vacations.

I didn’t care that I wasn’t good. Well, part of me DID care. Tennis can be an uppity game if you let personalities get in the way, and I had my share of hurt feelings. But one day I had an epiphany – a kind of “come to Jesus moment” and decided: “I don’t care WHO thinks I’m a good player or bad player – even if I play BAD. I play because I love it and that’s all that matters.”

That mantra served me well for the next few years. About three years ago Tommy and I were fortunate enough to go to the U.S. Open as someone’s guests. It was one of those sparkling NYC nights, and we took the short train ride from Manhattan to Flushing.

The atmosphere was as magical as it looks on TV with beautiful physical facilities and a contagious merriment in the air. We sat in the crows’ seats – and I mean the crows’ seats – watching Maria Sharipova beat somebody. The entire stadium was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. We were so high up we might as well have been watching crickets at play. I didn’t even feel like I was there.

My daughter Anne was a guest in a suite this year watching Melanie Oudin play Nadia Petrova. She could see the players’ families from her seat and said it was electrifying. Those seats are unlikely ever in my future but I enjoy watching it on television. In addition to having great views of the players and families, instant replay captures the best points and you can experience the whole court drama.

Drama was certainly replayed during this year’s semifinals when Serena Williams was penalized for a foot fault. If you saw or read about it, you know that Serena was less than happy with the judge’s call on match point, threatening to cram a tennis ball down her throat. It wasn’t pretty.

The next week, Dr. Phil said that you can’t let one bad moment define a person’s character in a competitive arena, but I disagree. If Serena had owned up to her actions by apologizing or appearing remorseful, I’d feel more sympathetic. But her immediate rejoinder was: “Oh, did I do that?” She lost a fan in me. So until I get the suite seats, I’ll stick with my homemade popcorn and cheap sodas and forgo the crows and crowds. And I can live vicariously through others who now play the game for me. ‘

Til next week.
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Tags: Jeanne Bragg, Mrs. Murfreesboro, Tennis, Voices


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