Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

(The Joys of being a Tennis Captain)

It is spring and all is new and possible. Or maybe not. With a slightly pathetic optimism I sign up, yet again - to be tennis captain. The roster swells and players are clamoring for position. “Put me in as many matches as possible. I’ll play with anyone. My schedule is wide open” they say. Looking good so far. We have a team meeting and go over the schedule. There will be twelve matches throughout the season. Six home and six away. Each match fields three doubles teams and two singles positions. We’re short of singles players so I recruit a couple of promising players from the next level down to fill in the empty spots.

The communication is to be via email. I don’t call people. I “group send” all the information anyone could possibly need. I even tell them the time and location of the matches unlike my husband’s captain - a man of few words. When he wants to know availability he sends: "Can U play?” That’s it. When he sends out the lineup he just names the players, not the teams or when and where. I realize I may have spoiled the people on my team. I’ve even been known to send directions to the other clubs, as well as an inspirational quote, but somehow it’s still not enough. I put date, time and location in the SUBJECT HEADING of the email. Immediately I get a response asking if it’s home or away. If I make the mistake of answering that one, the next question follows: what day and time?

It doesn’t take long to notice that the system is breaking down. This particular team consists of quite a few “seasoned” players. Several also play in Super Seniors, which means they are over sixty and some are over seventy. Some of the super seniors are not as tech savvy as I might have hoped. One very good player flat out told me that she doesn’t “do” computers. Another has access to the internet only at the public library, so she checks her email every few days at best. I check mine every few minutes. Hmm. Just a small challenge in communication. I remind myself to call the non-computer user and give plenty of notice to library lady since they happen to be two of the best players.

The season commences and we’re all hopeful, even though the team had two wins and ten losses the year before. Our first match is at the public park we call home. The snack table is lovely but there is a crisis. Parks and Recreation staff has neglected to open the restrooms. You may know how women are about their bathroom time. Near panic ensues, while I make frantic calls to maintenance. After the ladies room is unlocked there is a stream of trips there before we can begin.

As challenging as it is to host a home match, it’s almost impossible to field the away ones. One player has a skin condition and has to be covered from head to toe, including gloves, to shield her from the California sun. Another can’t play in the heat. Some of the away matches are scheduled in the evening when the fading light causes vision problems. Several players don’t want to drive in traffic which makes going north late in the day an impossibility. So far, my scheduling is complicated by sun, heat, traffic and lack of light. Then come the injuries. One knee goes out during the first practice. Another one is demolished in the first match. One of the older players says she’s under doctor’s orders to only play doubles - no singles. Just when I’m out of ideas one of the players (in her late sixties) offered to play singles in an evening, away match battling traffic and bad light. Anything to avoid a default. Bless her.

As the season progresses, I scramble to fill the holes in the lineup, always short at least one singles player. Even though I’ve switched over completely to doubles, which I’m really enjoying, I sacrifice myself, unsuccessfully, a few times for the team. Anything to avoid a default. I put pressure on those playing “up” to fill our singles positions. What do they have to lose? It turns out - a lot. One of our youngest, fastest players loses 0 and 0 in singles to a woman in her seventies. Ouch.

Queries about availability return predictable results. This one will be in Mexico. That one is spending a month in Israel. The other one really doesn’t like anybody very much. Now all of a sudden it seems noone can or will play at all. We are hopeful and I’m trying as hard as I can to bolster morale, but we keep losing.

The day before an important match I get an email from one of the singles players. She says she can’t play because she’s just had her hair Yuko’d so she’s not allowed to sweat or put it in a ponytail or wear a hat. That rules out her playing tennis, but WHAT THE HELL IS YUKO’D HAIR? I don’t really want to know but find out that it’s a Japanese straightening system. Until I have to take myself out of the lineup because of a black widow bite, this is the most ridiculous excuse I have ever heard. Bar none. Once again, one of the oldies but goodies steps forward and says she’ll play singles. Anything to avoid a default. She is almost seventy and her husband who is in his eighties comes out to cheer her on. She plays beautifully, but loses.

Somehow we get through the season. We have three matches that are extremely close but we do not prevail. The few players left standing at the end seemed to have enjoyed the chance to play. My last match makes me want to quit tennis. Again. To avoid a default I play singles and come out so strong that my teammates think I have it in the bag and leave. I play a woman a level down who doesn’t even know all the rules. No problem. After she beats me in the third set tie-breaker she’s so excited and tells me it’s her first win all year. I would rather have a default. After all my thought and inspiration and effort we come away with the same record as the year before - two wins and ten losses, but some of the nicest women I’ve ever met were on my team.