From the trenches to champions

I'd be lying if I said I didn't have doubts about having my girlfriend be my tennis coach. First, I was losing to players I should have beaten. Second, I was acting like Buddha on the court, but I didn't have the belly or the temperament. And most importantly, if we failed, it would have hurt more than if I had failed on my own. 

But the single thought that kept the doubts hidden, even in the trenches, was: If I can't share the game I love most with the person I love the most, what's the point? 

So we embarked on a journey together. It started in Philadelphia, in our hotel room, after I lost to a player who should have been a piece of cake for me. We broke down the match and my weaknesses and identified exactly why I was losing. 

I gave her full authority to make decisions as the coach, and she made a bunch, some of which I was hesitant about at first. We eliminated mindless late-night hits that would often lead me to get home at one or two in the morning. We eliminated team doubles. We would hyperfocus on the types of balls that gave me trouble and become comfortable being uncomfortable.

She taught me to fist pump on the court and to stop being such a fake stoic.

She taught me to have fun. 

She taught me to believe in myself. 

But you need receipts. Tennis isn't karate. You don't just show up day after day, and then one day, they hand you a yellow belt, then a blue, then a green. 

You need to win, and winning isn't guaranteed no matter what you do. It's never a sure thing. You can put in the work, put in the hours, wear a little suit and tie, and say thank you, ma'am, but still not get the job.

Or the money. Or the girl. 

Or the 4.0 tennis trophy. 

It's easy to say enjoy the journey when you've won, but when you're losing, winning is all that matters. Like everything in life, it's a weird balance. Of course, you need to trust the process, but you should also want the process to work. 

Not all processes are created equal. 

But if I were to take anything from this process, it would be to trust only the process of people who love you. Go on the joy ride with the people who truly care about you. You only get one or two in the whole world, and that's if you're lucky. And if those people have a process for you, then trust it. 

Last night, we sat at The Cheesecake Factory in West Nyack. Only a couple of months back, we were fighting at the same booth. This time, a trophy sat on the table. My girlfriend and I smiled over two salmons. My father called, and the excuses I used to have transformed into laughter. 

What's the point of good times if you can't share them with the ones you love? There isn't one. And what about the bad times? 

The truth is, they ain't that bad if you're still with the ones you love.