I mentioned in a post last week that I was headed to Tyler Texas for a USTA sectional tournament. A detail I purposely neglected to share was that the participants in this amateur sporting event were seniors. No, not seniors in high school, but seniors as defined by the United States Tennis Association. It may or may not be a coincidence that the USTA age threshold happens to be the same as the American Association of Retired Persons.
Hmm, old man’s tennis. How exciting.
How exciting indeed! The skill, athleticism and quality of play I witnessed far exceeded my expectations. It was awe-inspiring, and quite frankly, a bit intimidating.
The first match I watched pitted our top doubles team against another Texas city’s best. What I witnessed astonished me. From the opening serve until the final point was won, tennis balls were struck firmly, with deliberate authority and surprising power. And almost always in the center of the strings. The sound was glorious, similar to the loud pop one hears when Albert Pujols connects with a fastball on the fat part of the bat. Thwack! A well-struck tennis ball doesn’t deliver that same percussive sound, but all within earshot recognize the audible response off the strings as a quality shot. It compels one to take notice, especially those on the other side of the net.
Our second doubles team squared off against a duo comprised of a young 50 year-old and a “super senior” who appeared so decrepit, you were concerned he might keel over at any moment. Or lay down on the court and take a nap. Close observation confirmed he was sound of mind and very alert, but his wiry and bony frame gave the mistaken impression that his movement would be stilted. You expected his reactions to be dulled and that power shots would overwhelm him. Wrong! This “geezer” floated around the court with ease. What amazed though, what his ability to control the point so he didn’t have to move much at all. Most anything my guys threw at him came back, often at a sharp angle and below the knees. This put stress on the Austin team to deliver a similar shot. All-too-often, our best shots were within our opponent’s reach and they were able to finish the point or elicit a defensive response that resulted in an easy put-away. While the set scores were close, those of us observing the match never felt like we threatened our opponents. They exuded quiet confidence and achieved the result they expected. That old geezer walked off the court appearing none the worse for wear after nearly 105 minutes in 90 degree Texas heat. Astounding.
The well-worn idiom, “You can’t judge a book by its cover” was absolutely apropos not only for the geezer and many others like him participating in the tournament, but for the way the game itself was played. Old man’s tennis. Pshaw! I saw artistry, finesse, imagination and skill on display on every court. Like a seasoned writer who pumps out best sellers year after year, these senior tennis players authored games only decades of dedication to perfecting the craft can deliver. It was a sweet script and a senior moment that was marvelous to behold. I hope to be back next year.
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