From the Heart
For everything there is a season … especially when you have grandkids that play sports.
I know where every (almost every) basketball gym and football and soccer and baseball field is in the area. I know rules, regulations and terms and positions that my grandkids play.
Or so I thought.
A few weeks ago, Jake, who is 13, decided he would no longer play football.
Jake has been playing football since he could figure out a shotgun formation. He was the quarterback and knew what the audible “Omaha” meant when Peyton Manning yelled it before he could tie his cleats.
This summer he began to fall in love with playing tennis. Garrick and Alex were partners in the crime of stealing the football away from Jake and replacing it with a tennis racket.
And so this grandma is now learning the facts of playing tennis.
I’ve learned football, baseball, basketball, gymnastics, soccer, golf and even the language of lacrosse.
You may not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, but this grandma is bound and determined to learn the language of tennis.
I’ve had a crash course and I am a bit overwhelmed.
Ace? A serve landing inside the lines and untouched by opponent. Advantage? A point that follows a deuce score. Deuce score? What? 40-40. I’m so confused.
Let? Match Point? Unforced error? Volley? Oh Jake, you have challenged your grandmother’s brain. I’m not sure I can follow your down-the-line or sliced backhands.
I just hope your foot isn’t found at fault or you strike the ground. I want to see you at the breaking point and maybe even a double bagel.
I have no idea what I just wrote, but I just know while I may not understand all the terms, if I get to watch my grandson Jake, I know I will learn to LOVE tennis.