If we’ve been at the same barbeque over the summer holidays, you will likely have had the unfortunate experience of being cornered by me to talk about my latest obsession… tennis.I will not have waited for the topic to come up in conversation or first asked what you’ve been up to. My approach is rather uncordial and has all the subtlety of a five year old in the playground: “I like tennis. Do you?”
If the answer is yes, I see it as a green light to unabashedly discuss—at length—anything from Coco Gauff’s shoes to Sabalenka’s forehand to Rublev’s tongue (IYKYK).If the response, however, is no, I see it as an opportunity to convince you of the merits of playing, watching, living and breathing tennis.
I am obsessed with the sport, you see. What began as an innocent hobby during lockdown has evolved into nothing short of a life passion. Would I go so far as to say that tennis is part of my personality? Thirteen days into the Australian Open, sleep deprived from late-night matches and writing this article with mellifluous summer commentary in the background, why yes I would.
This is the point where I explain that despite feeling the most about tennis, I am not actually any good at the sport. But embracing mediocrity on the court is all part of my tennis journey.
For a woman who can no longer go on runs thanks to a lengthy posterior labour, and who attends reformer classes because she thinks she should but constantly zones out and has to have the instructions repeated, I am thrilled to have found a form of exercise that doesn’t feel like a mild form of punishment.
Meet The Women Making Thousands From Their Wardrobes
BY CAROLINE ZIELINSKI
Read how this writer embraced mediocrity and fell in love with tennis at PRIMER.
READ IT HERE
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