Tennis is a Sport of Gods

I began playing tennis as a child, a little here and there with my father, and then in a summer league once or twice, I can't remember which. More recently though, it has supplemented my cycling and surpassed hockey as sport numero uno again. After tangling with baseball, hockey, lacrosse, and so on, it just comes down to one thing: tennis is a sport of gods.

The is a great satisfaction in the crack of a baseball bat; watching the ball fly out past the outfielders as you slowly run the bases in triumph. Flipping a quick wrist shot from the face-off circle right above the goalie's shoulder sends a feeling of great power running straight from the blade of your stick, through your arms and shoulders, and finally engulfing your mind and soul. But there is nothing better than feeling the fluid motion and raw power as you drive a forehand blazing down the line, past an unsuspecting opponent who's feet and hands are hopelessly a tangle.

I love cycling because it's very personal. You can focus on the power in your legs, feel the air flow in and out of your lungs, and watch the world fly by at twenty-five miles per house. I must say though, that tennis is much more satisfying, on a mental level at least. The tremendous feeling of outsmarting an opponent, or being outsmarted, or better yet the reality that you have triumphed by shear will and strength. There is little else that matters in the world, only that little yellow ball. Down the line, cross court, where to go. Feel the contact rumble through your arm, and by the time it's gone your already onto the next shot.

Fast, powerful, smart, thrilling. It's like a pedal powered roller-coaster.