Personal Narrative: Jim Lee Memorial Tennis Tournament

Isaac Richards. This was the name of my first opponent in the Jim Lee Memorial tennis tournament. He was a familiar foe, and someone I knew I could beat. Just earlier that summer, we played, and I beat him 6-3, 7-5. I had played in many tournaments that summer and the summer prior, but this tourney was different. It was the first time that I was playing in a higher age division. I was also entering my Freshman year of highschool, and knew that I would play a handful of these guys again during the season. I was determined to play well to earn their respect. Over the next couple of days, I spent hours getting ready. I would wake up early to hit five baskets of serves, later that day I would two baskets of forehands, and two baskets of backhands. As the match drew closer, I

His first serve of the match rocketed right down the tee for an ace. 15-love. He followed that with a high-arching topspin serve out wide, and ran in for a volley. I quickly lunge and pop it just over the net, where he was waiting. HE hit a clean volley to the opposite corner. 30-love. As the match progressed, I began to realize that this was not the same player that I had beaten just a few months earlier. I nhad no answers for his goundstrokes. The next thirty-five minutes flew by as Isaac hit ace after ace, winner after winner, and I made mistake after mistake, resulting in a 1-6, 1-6 defeat. I was stunned. After the match, he told me how hard he had worked to get ready for this match. Not in the mood to talk to the man who had just administered an immense blow to my pride, I walked off the court, muttering profanities and making excuses. Later that day, as I told my brother of my defeat, expecting him to condone my excuses, he just said a quote a quote from Benjamin Franklin. He said, “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail”. As I refelcted on my brothers knowledge, I came to realize that I lost because I wasn 't prepared. I realized that Isaac had spent hours preparing and getting