Rock On, Hard On

Real tennis = no Bloomin love. Wii tennis = Mucho love.

It’s Australian Open time here in Melbourne and I have to admit that I’m almost giddy with glee. I learned very quickly that Australians go crazy for sport in general and this is no exception.  Luckily, I absolutely adore tennis although it is most definitely not a mutual admiration society. And the fact that I’m quarantined on dr’s orders at the moment means I should hopefully get to see more of it than I have in the past 2.3 years that I’ve lived here. Plus I’m heading to the real thing on Friday, Sunday and Tuesday (I think) before heading to Fiji so I’m one happy gal. 

I learned the intricacies of tennis solely by watching others play on tv. I have absolutely zero tennis skills in reality. Zero.  Actually maybe minus zero.

In high school, the tennis team needed another female to make up the numbers so they could enter a tournament. As I was on the basketball, volleyball and soccer teams, I think the coach made a fair assumption that I would be able to hold my own on a tennis court. Trick or treat, you sucka Mr Benner.

I stood there while my opponents absolutely drilled tennis balls at me as if they’d win the Holy Grail to Marky Mark’s heart if they pinged me in the head.  And I just held my ground letting the balls whiz by without even attempting to swing.  How in the hell is one supposed to hit a ball going 300 kms/hr with just a few pieces of stupid string attached to a wooden mandolin?   

My professional tennis career began and ended that day.  My Wii tennis career, however, is charging full-steam ahead.  I am a LEGEND I tell you, an absolute legend.  A legend who can’t lift their right arm at the moment but bah - us elite athletes suffer in silence for the love of the game.