When I first started playing platform tennis I began
on flight V---the lowest level—for beginners. And every week we received a
lesson from an older woman who was nationally ranked and had won several
national senior women’s and mixed tournaments. She was highly regarded.
Platform tennis is not just regular tennis played on
a smaller court inside a wire cage. There is a very specific and distinct strategy
to it. There is no classic “one up one back” formation as there is in regular
tennis. Platform tennis is played with the serving team in a totally offensive
position at the net, and the receiving team totally on the defensive position behind
the back line. And teammates move in a parallel
horizontal pattern based on the placement of the ball. The point of this movement
is to maximize the racquet’s reach on the court at all times. This movement
pattern disallows most high percentage shots from passing untouched.
And it was during a lesson taught by this seasoned
nationally ranked player that I in succession on receiving a deep angled serve hit
a backhand drive 3 times down the alley past this senior woman. The woman,
peeved by her inability to return my low percentage shots wagged her index
finger at me and announced as the entire team listened You are never going to make it off of Flight V.
When I moved up to Fight IV the new women’s platform chairperson
asked me to captain the team. I agreed. And then I asked if our team was
obligated to use the senior woman as our instructor. We were not. So I, in concert
with my co-captain, fired the senior woman and replaced her with her playing
partner. It was a 1-2 punch. And some of the other flights, seeing that our
team changed our instructor, changed to a different instructor as well. The senior woman was not happy.
My technical platform tennis skills were never
stellar. I held the racquet with a severe grip. I did not always strike the
ball cleanly nor were my feet always firmly planted. I was, what is known as, a scrappy
player. I was smart. I was patient. I always stood in the correct position
to compensate for my technical ineptitude. And because I was petite, I could
get down low and sprint quickly. And best of all I was always underestimated.
And so, over time, my wins added up.
Eight years later via much hard work and
serendipitous circumstances I eventually found myself on Flight I (now called the
A team). And I, with my friend Heather, were the captains of the second of two Cherry
Valley Club A teams. And the senior woman,
despite being a member of my country club, played on the A team at Garden
City’s Recreation Center.
Early in the season, our team had a match against the
GC Rec. And although I was not playing in the match, as the captain, I went to
observe. And the senior woman, who was also not playing in the match, was there
too—also observing. And when the woman’s curiosity got the best of her she
finally asked why I was there. And I told her that I was the captain of Cherry
Valley’s team. And she was puzzled and said You are on Cherry Valley’s A team?
And I said Yes—I guess I was good enough
to make off of Flight V after all.
It was a wonderful moment. It was all I could do to
not stick my tongue out. And despite the fact that in terms of actual skill I
was only a B team court 3 player on an A team roster, it didn’t matter. On
paper, I was an A player. I would forever be the walking proof that this woman
got it all wrong. I rose from Flight V to A. It was the kind of cud a pompous
old women had to swallow---and each time she regurgitated it the taste got increasingly
bitter. And I just loved it.
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