Breathless

Breathe. Just Breathe. It was a college showcase match at Yale where coaches came to scout and recruit players for their team. The wind was blowing 20 miles per hour and the sun was beating down on the court. There was so much riding on this one match. The pressure was unbearable. This was my last chance to get a scholarship to a good division 1 school so I needed to fight for my life to win the match. Every other college that I wanted to play at either told me they had no room on their team for me, or only offered me a partial scholarship. With all the money my parents had spent on tennis gear, lessons, and tournaments, there was no chance I was going to make them pay for my college tuition. My heart was pounding and I could feel my pulse throbbing through my stomach and hands. My legs were nonexistent, I could barely stand. It felt like nothing was holding me up. The nerves had reached my limbs, numbing my legs and arms, not knowing what to do with them. I stared into the palms of my hands as the accumulated sweat glistened in the sunlight. "Yang, heads or tails? Call it in midair," the referee instructed me. I looked up at him. Startled, I said "Heads". I always chose heads. The coin was spun around on the ground for what felt like minutes until it finally landed on heads. "It's heads. Yang, your choice. Would you like to serve or receive?" the referee asked. Without hesitation I confidently said, "I'll serve first."

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Breathe. Just Breathe. I jogged to the back of the fence to lay my towel that I had stolen from the hotel gently on the ground. Walking to the baseline I bounced the ball in intervals of five. If I bounced the ball five times, there was a higher chance I would win the point. I tapped my right thigh three times before playing the next point. It had become my superstitious ritual. I tap my leg three times, bounce the ball five times. I didn't step on any of the white lines if I wasn't playing my point and I wouldn't use my towel unless I lost a point. On every change over I would take three sips of water, five sips of pedialyte, and then three more sips of water, no more or no less. If I did all this right, I would keep winning. One, two, three, four, five. Again. One, two, three, four, five. I took a deep breath, steadied my body in a serving position, and felt the fresh fuzz on the tennis ball as I juggled it in my right hand. 

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Breathe. Just Breathe. I tossed the ball in the air to serve but the wind blew it askew. I caught it and tossed again. The toss was still a little off to the left but I served anyway because I knew it was going to be like this every time and I just had to compromise and be versatile. Luckily, my ball hit the edge of the line and the point was in play. Even though my serve went in, I could barely play the point because my legs refused to move. It was a feeling I had never felt before. This is what anxiety feels like. My body is giving up on me, I told myself. But I wasn't going down without a fight. I knew I had it in me to win this match, I just needed to push through the nerves. 

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Breathe. Just Breathe. Love-15. Even though the set score was tied at 0-0, It felt like I had already lost the match. Shake it off. I shook out my legs as if I was trying to take off a pair of skinny tight jeans. I looked like a child hopped up on sugar as I ran in place and followed it with kangaroo jumps. I remembered what my mom always said to me, "Everything happens for a reason". I deserved this win and I didn't get this far into my tennis career just to throw everything I had worked for away. "Come on Rachelle, it's all up to you now. There's no one else that can help you at this point except yourself. It's just you and the ball, trust yourself," I mumbled under my breath right before I served. Forehand, backhand, another backhand, winner. 15-15. After the second point of the match, I realized that this win was not going to be handed to me on a silver platter and I was going to have to fight tooth and nail for every single point. Every fight that my dad and I had gotten into has led up to this match. Every school day that my brother had to miss had led up to this match. Every time my mom had taken me to practice had led up to this point. Not only was I playing this match for myself, I was also playing for my family. My family was my biggest support system and came to every single one of my matches, cheering me on from the bleachers as the sun singed the hairs on their bodies and burned their faces. 

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Breathe. Just Breathe. The sweat continuously dripped down my body and no matter how hard I tried to dab it away, it kept trickling into my eyes. I just had to push through it. It was 5-6 in the first set. This was the most important game so I could tie the score to 6-6 or else I would lose the first set. It was time to show the Fordham coach how tough and feisty I could be. I refused to let up and give away this first set. I shut out all the background noise around me from the scream of defeat from other players to the loud cheering from tiger moms. The adrenaline coursed through my veins while I readied myself to return my opponent's serve. Love-15. "COME ON," I screeched after winning the first point. Tap, tap, tap, walk to the other side of the court. 15-15. I walked to the back of the fence, dabbed my hands and my forehead, tapped my thigh, and positioned myself for the next point. As I lunged forward to hit her second serve, it grazed the net and landed an inch outside the service box. Luck was on my side. 15-30. Her ball landed in the net. 15-40. One more point, I just needed to get this last point. I dialed in, eyes squinted, knees bent, and hit a winner off of my opponent's serve. "COME ON". The set score was 6-6 and it was time for a tiebreaker. I pride myself on always being a good sport however, it cost me the first set. The ball landed very close to the line and I wasn't sure if it was in or out. I could've easily won the set by calling the ball out, but the guilt would've eaten me up. It wasn't the right way to win. My dad always told me, "You don't need to cheat to win, if you apply everything you've been taught, you will win". I lost the first set in a tiebreak causing the score to be 6-7. Truthfully, I was upset that I didn't call the ball out but I couldn't show any emotions since the Fordham coach was watching. 

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Breathe. Just Breathe. Water, Pedialyte, water. It was time for a fresh start and to forget everything that had happened in the first set. I had to show the Fordham coach that I had the capability to bounce back and be resilient. I had been through enough matches to know that I was more than capable to win this match, I just needed everything to apply everything that I have been taught. I was going home with a win and possibly an offer from Fordham. I hopped up from the scorching metal bench and felt the heat from the ground radiate into the soles of my shoes. "Suck it up, after this you're done, just two more hours," I mumbled to myself. I adjusted the strings on my racket to ground myself and prepared to return my opponent's serve. The second set was toe to toe. I exhausted every bone, every muscle in my body trying to win each point. I thought about every time I had to wake up before the sunrise just to practice. I thought about how I had to give up my weekends to play tournaments. I thought about all the fights I had with my dad. I thought about everything I had to endure to get me where I was. That was the motivation I needed. After many "COME ON"s and "LET'S GO"s, I won the second set 6-1, not giving away any easy points. I made sure that my opponent had to earn every point. 

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Breathe. Just Breathe. Pressure, pressure, pressure. I had made it to the third set, the set that would decide my future. This set was going to prove if I was set to be a New Yorker, a ram. I looked over at my parents and my dad gave me a head nod and said "let's go Rachi, keep fighting". As I was playing the last set, I couldn't seem to get ahead and we were always tied with games. My frustration was getting to me but I couldn't let it show, I kept it locked in. I looked over to my dad for help but he just nodded at me and clapped, reassuring me that I could do it. It was all on me, no one could help me. Before I knew it I was down 3-5 and I was fighting for my life. Through my manly grunts as I struck every ball and panting as I chased every ball down, I couldn't breathe. It didn't matter, it was over, I had lost. Trying to keep tears from streaming down my face, I walked up to the net to shake my opponent's hand. "Great match," I said as a teardrop rolled down my face. Before I knew it, I started to sob uncontrollably. I didn't want to, I was always told that crying was a sign of weakness. I wasn't even upset that I had lost the match because I played phenomenally, and I couldn't have been any prouder with the way I played. I wouldn't have changed anything but, a loss is still a loss. My mind started to flood with doubts and I couldn't seem to shake the feeling that I wasn't going to be recruited. I'm not going to college. I'm not good enough. No matter how hard I've tried I'll never be good enough. 

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Breathe. Just Breathe. With my face in the palms of my hands and my back hunched over, I tried to take slow, deep breaths to steady myself to face my family and the Fordham coach. I was upset because I felt like I had just disappointed my parents. I was upset because I thought the Fordham coach was going to pass on me. I was upset because I did everything right but still didn't win. But that's life, sometimes things aren't bound to go your way no matter how hard you try or how much you want it. Both my parents gave me bear heads despite my body being drenched with sweat. My brother told me "nice try" and gave me a high five and left to go dribble his basketball. He was nine so to him tennis was just a fun sport. I had really hoped that the Fordham coach didn't see my meltdown after the match was over. Unfortunately she witnessed everything. "You played amazing. I really enjoyed watching you play" she said with her thick New York accent. I thanked her for watching and apologized for crying. "It's okay to cry, it just means that you care. Your game is very solid and I think you would be a great fit on this team. Why don't you come to Fordham while you and your family are still on the east coast and I'll give you a tour?"

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Breathe. Just Breathe. This was the moment that I had been waiting for. My heart pounded in my chest as I speechlessly stood in front of her with my gaping eyes. "Ye- Yes, I would love to," I stuttered while looking at my parents for their approval. They both nodded at me looking like the Cheshire Cat. "Great, I can't wait to show you around!" she exclaimed. As I arrived on Fordham's campus the next day, I was breathless. The campus was stunning. I could definitely envision myself at this school. I toured many other schools prior to Fordham, but I didn't get the same sense of comfort. The Fordham coach did everything to make me feel at home. 

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Later that week when I was back in California, the Fordham coach called me. In maybe about .2 seconds, I answered, "Hello?" with my voice 3 octaves higher than usual. "Hi Rachelle, do you have a moment to talk?" I nodded but realized she wasn't able to see me, so I replied with a meek, "Mhm". Even though there were many telling signs that she was going to offer me a scholarship, I was still anxious. "I just wanted to let you know that I would love to have you join our team. We have one full scholarship left and I wanted to extend an offer to you." I can't even begin to explain my emotional state. I was stunned, ecstatic, relieved. I was on cloud nine. Everything that I had worked for paid off. I tried to play it off cool but I couldn't hold back my emotions. "YES YES YES I WOULD LOVE TO SIGN WITH FORDHAM," I screamed through the phone. "Awesome! I'll send over an email with all the paperwork and information, we'll keep in touch" she replied.  

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"Guess what, Guess what!" I screamed as I slid into the kitchen. "You got the scholarship spot didn't you?" My dad said slyly. "What. How did you know?" I asked. "I know everything," he chuckled, "The way you played at the showcase was amazing. You kept yourself composed and showed the coach everything you were capable of. Even though you lost, the coach couldn't have been more proud and I couldn't have been more proud". My dad was never one to show affection but he hugged me and told me that he loved me both in the same day. It was then when I finally felt like I had made him proud and had given back everything he has given to me. 

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I asked my coach a while later why she chose me for the last spot on the team. She said she was impressed by my grit and integrity. She admired my sportsmanship and my intensity. My time at Fordham so far has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but every single day I am still grateful to be in the position that I am in. People always tell me that I'm so lucky I go to college without having to pay a dime but the journey getting to Fordham was not easy. What they don't understand is that it has nothing to do with luck and everything to do with hard work and perseverance. Pain, grief, anxiety. Stress, exhaustion, anger. For ten years of my life, that's what I associated tennis with. Now I am able to feel pride, happiness, and confidence when it comes to tennis. Relief, support, motivation. 

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Tennis took me away from my home, all the way across the country from the west coast to the east coast, and placed me in New York. Of course, I didn't want to uproot my whole life and leave everyone I love in California but "everything happens for a reason". Even though Fordham took me away from my family, it gave me a new one, my team, and I met some of my best friends here. I am granted the chance to go to an amazing university on a full scholarship and label myself as a division 1 athlete. Everything my parents have given up for me paid off. I had the opportunity to live in one of the greatest cities for free. My dad would always say, "So many people would do anything to be in your position". He's right, not many people can go to school in NYC, play a division 1 sport, for free, though I did earn my spot here. 

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Truthfully, there were many times I wanted to march up to my dad and tell him that I wanted to quit playing tennis. I never had the strength to because I had already given up so much time, money, and energy to tennis. I wasn't going to let all of that go to waste. 

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Tennis has taught me so many lessons that are applicable both on and off the court. Tennis taught me how to be persistent, how to overcome hardships. Tennis taught me what it is like to be the underdog and humbled me. Tennis taught me the importance of mental toughness, being hungry. Tennis taught me how to be relentless to achieve my goals. Tennis taught me how to both win and lose with good sportsmanship. Tennis taught me the importance of self-reliance because I am out on the court fending for myself with no one to help me. It’s just me, my racket, and the ball. Tennis taught me that in order to be successful in anything, repetition and practice are necessary. Tennis taught me that my self-destructive thoughts turn me into my own enemy. Tennis taught me to always be positive and optimistic. 

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Tennis has given me strength, mentally and physically, both on and off the court. Tennis gave me a competitive edge and I will never let anyone step on me or disrespect me. Tennis has brought so much unwarranted drama into my life, but I overcame it all. Tennis has also provided me with job opportunities where I could show off my prowess. Because of tennis I had less time for school, constant arguments with my parents, and minimal time with my friends. Because of tennis I get no sleep, no vacations, no weekends. Because of tennis I'm always injured, exhausted, and mentally drained. Because of tennis I have blisters, calluses, and scars. But also because of tennis I am persistent, resilient, and disciplined. Because of tennis I have muscle, speed, and agility. Because of tennis I got to travel to many different states. Because of tennis I have teammates, stories, and pride. 

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