tradi’tion n. body of beliefs, facts, etc., handed down to generation to generation without being reduced to writing; the process of handing down.
Returned to the club today to see some real tennis...while Monfils defeated Nieminen in the finals of the Stockholm Open in three sets.
Theo lost the first set at love but battled back to take the second set 7-5. In our series we play a "Super Tiebreak" if the players split the first two sets...for all of the marbles. The first to ten and winning by two wins the match.
The two opponents battled back and forth in what turned out to be an epic struggle. Theo won the 9-9 point to go up 10-9 but could not capitalize. They went back and forth...until Theo's opponent took advantage of a short ball and placed it squarely in Theo's backhand corner where he could not manage to return it. Final score 18-16 in the Super Tiebreak.
Theo managed to stay composed on his way to the net for the obligatory handshake but when that little piece of business was squared away he collapsed sobbing into his hands...and he was unable to stop. I was watching from behind the glass partition behind the courts as his father trotted over to console him. After a couple of minutes I went over to see if I could shed a little light on the subject.
"Theo", I said to him...his face still buried in his hands. "It's Steve. I came all of the way from Stockholm to see you play." No response, more tears. "Theo, it's Steve. You're ok, stop crying, you're ok. I am proud of you. You tried your best. If you would of won one more point the other boy would be the one crying. You're ok...it's alright." No dice.
His mother came over and eventually...it was a good ten minutes, maybe even fifteen he managed to stop sobbing and the three of us went over to the other side of the court to sort things out. He's eleven. I told the mother that it was probably better for him that he lost. The other boy just gave it a big "Yeah!" went off to pound some lunch and that was that for him. Theo, on the other hand, had to process the fact that he was number one, exhausted...plus he had to process coming out on the short end of the stick in an 18-16 marathon tie-break. I have never played an 18-16 tie-break. Mumsy and I had a nice little philosophical discussion about what good training tennis is for life...it's not always a bed of roses, it's not always a trip to the beach. Theo had a couple of cookies and I saw him smiling and laughing with the other boys who were playing in the doubles about a half an hour later. Kids.
The whole experience sort of shocked Theo. He'd never been there before. He was in uncharted waters. The drama really piled up. All of us tennis players know what it is like to lose a close one. You survive. You find a way. Wouldn't it be funny if one day he is in the Wimbledon finals playing against the American number one...going the distance to five sets, finding himself in a marathon tie-break and winning. The smile on his face will bear just a bit of a pained expression when his memory of "that day at Skultorps" snuck its way back into his noodle.

Sorry for the repetition...just shuffling the papers around. Rearranging the chairs on the Titanic.



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