My Best Loss Ever

The suburbs of New Jersey will not be confused for New York City anytime soon. No one walks, the pizza is questionable and the G train doesn't stop here.  But one thing they deserve credit for is having ample and excellent public tennis courts.

As I have adjusted to my new-ish suburban life, tennis has become my North Star. It’s allowed me to find a way to find peace, make new friends and enjoy the process of self-improvement.

I turned to tennis when I grew to loathe the running I’d started during the pandemic. And when I picked up a racket I found that there was a meditative component to tennis that running didn’t offer. Playing is one of the only times that my brain stops racing. My body moves but my mind is quiet. That silence is powerful and always welcome.

Then there is the friend component. It’s harder for men to make friends as we get older and life gets more complicated. This is even truer for dads of neurodivergent kids; I hear it all the time in the parent group I run.

But as I started to play more, and met people on the court, I started to make friends. It’s easy to understand why. Tennis is a social game and you can tell a lot by a person by how they play. Are they honest about whether a ball is in or out? How do they react when they lose a point? What kind of small talk do they make during switch-overs? I cared less about how good my opponent was and more about how they carried themselves. There’s even a doubles group I played with all winter long,  even on mornings when it was 30 degrees out. I’d be hitting wearing gloves, hats, and long johns. The camaraderie and the competition were always worth it.

The other appealing aspect of tennis was that I got better the more I played. Considering how much I talk to clients about slow and steady growth, it was satisfying to witness this improvement in myself. I began watching Instagram reels of tennis instructors around the world, and resorted to YouTube when my strokes hit a wall. I took lessons. I even played with a friend who had an app on his phone that allowed us to tape our matches. For a long time, I couldn’t bear the thought of watching myself, but eventually I relented and it helped. It wasn’t as painful as I thought it might be.

During matches, I coach myself, using the same key principles I use with clients. The first is don’t panic! Whether I’m up big, or down big, I try to play the points the same. Making decisions from a place from anxiety never results in good decisions in life or the tennis court. The second is to have gratitude. Even when I’m not thinking about it, I’m feeling it. Anytime I’m out on the court, it’s a blessing. I can use my legs, use my arms, use my brain. Run around. Get my heart rate up. I’m not particularly attached to whether I win or lose, as long as I give my all and show up as my best self. It sounds super cheesy, but it's 100% accurate.

I eventually joined a local round-robin tournament of about 40 guys who were roughly the same level as me. Every week I would play with someone new at night or during the weekend. And surprisingly I did pretty well.

As the season continued, I kept winning. Every game had to be recorded on a Google spreadsheet, and to my surprise, my oldest son really enjoyed entering the results of my matches. Somehow by the end of the season I remained unbeaten. I went 9-0. And then I made the playoffs. I won my quarter-final match, I won my semi-final match, and then the magic came to an end. I lost to a very capable opponent.

After I lost, the first person I texted was my son. This was our exchange:

“What happened?”
“I lost.”
“awwww.”
“7-5, 6-2.”
“What happened in the second set?”
“I was tired.”
“ok. You did really good this year.”
“Thanks buddy! I love your support so much. It means a lot to me.”
“Even if you do bad moving up to the next level, you had a good year.”

So even though I wish I brought home the gold, it’s safe to say that this was my best loss ever. I’ll keep playing. Keep improving. And whatever happens, I truly appreciate the journey. Always keep your eye on the ball.