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Post-Gazette beat writers
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and
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blog about the Pittsburgh Pirates. Brian O'Neill,
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takes an occasional look into the numbers.
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Ah... time for summer tennis leagues again and that old familiar tightening of the sphincter as I try and eek out a win over a slightly superior opponent. Nothing like feeling the rubber hitting the road.
I got a good lesson this week. It's funny about how this stuff works. Everything is never really finally unforgetfully learned ever. It is subject to being forgotten ten second after it was drilled into your head. I'm going to use Christian vocabulary to describe this because most people who might read this are familiar with it but by all means, feel free to translate this as necessary.
Both of us were having a not great tennis morning. It was kind of like mud wrestling rather than tennis. Playing singles outdoors after a winter of mostly indoor doubles is pretty mind-blowing at first. The birdies... the wind... the brass band in the background... the Korean family in the next court just hitting around... the two 5.0s duking it out a couple of courts down... there's suddenly a lot going on and maintaining your concentration in this takes practice.
Anyways, I had won the first set and it was tie late in the second and I was trying to put the hammer down. Then I missed three points on my serve in a row, all winners of different types which were hit either slight long or slightly wide or just not quite hard enough and I lost my service game to go down 4-5. In the middle of that, however, I played a single 'pusher' point and outlasted my opponent. Calling someone a 'pusher' in tennis is pretty much like calling someone a hack who is relying on their equipment and their opponent's mistakes to win points. A 'pusher' is someone who just tries to get the ball back into a less than convenient spot and live to hit the ball again. As a pusher, I might hit my opponent 5 backhands in a row to look for a mishit to drop shot cross court. It isn't much to watch, let me tell you.
At that point, I realized that God was speaking to me (I told you, I'm using Christian vocabulary) and telling me that I had too much ego into my shots and that I should just play pusher ball today and not trying to be an artiste. God can not 'speak' per say and God cannot 'listen' per se because to 'speak' and to 'listen' are human actions and God is not a person. God is limitless and all everything and if you believe that, assigning human traits and shortcomings to God is a well... pretty cheeky. God shows you in the world what needs to be done if YOU are willing to put your ego aside and not try to impose your will. Big step, that. We can talk about that separation between 'you' and 'God' another time but for now, let's let it alone. Anyway, I ran off nearly 12 straight long and not very artistic points for the win. Afterwards, I did not feel particularly artistic or even much like a good player but a win is a win and they all count.
Some people meditate... some people go to church... I play tennis. And learn a little.
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