Until today at 4:23 in the afternoon.
I've been coaching tennis since mid October. Our district tournament was scheduled to convene on February 18th, but had to be postponed due to a One Act Play competition. As soon as talks of rescheduling surfaced, I knew there was a good chance I'd have to miss my kiddos' last tournament, my last tournament in South Texas.
Sure enough, the tournament was rescheduled for the weekend of Brittany's bachelorette party. Although I was initially saddened by the news, excitement to see my (seemingly) long lost girlfriends made it really difficult to think about anything beyond getting my laundry done and my carry-on bag packed.
Saturday morning, after spending much of Friday night giddily talking about weddings (for some) and new relationships (for others), I busted out my winter running gear for the first time in a year and hit the Minneapolis pavement, accompanied by snow flurries. As purple painted the tips of my fingers and my eyes squinted to see the road in front of me, thoughts of my tennis kids crossed my mind.
Did all the players get on the bus okay? Blankets and rackets in tow?
Did they get their breakfast tacos in the morning?
Ah, who's going to make sure the two (pre-diabetic) Alejandras don't eat sugary snacks between matches?
Reminding myself I was over a thousand miles away from them (and quickly getting lost in downtown Minneapolis), the thoughts escaped me as quickly as my body heat did in the freezing morning.
Reaching my hotel, I swiped the card in the elevator to get to my 8th floor room. I stripped and showered immediately, hoping to expedite the necessary defrosting. Upon positively exiting the shower, my phone acted as a negatively charged magnet, calling me to it.
WE WERE RAINED OUT, TOURNAMENT WILL BE RESCHEDULED!
Rain in Roma? Rescheduled? Ay ay ay.
The tournament was rescheduled for this weekend, a weekend that has been booked as "NOLA Marathon" in my planner for the past three months. Woo, again, any hope I had of seeing my kids chase neon yellow balls with rackets was dismissed.
Today was our final practice. Knowing this was also my last day at home before the marathon, my head coach led practice and invited me to embark on a final training run around our rural school grounds. After splitting some chili-lime Corn Nuts with willing 7th and 8th graders, I took off on the rock sprinkled, un-mowed grassy grounds surrounding our school. As I dodged holes and anything else that wou
ld result in unwanted pre-race injuries, I heard the sweet strokes of my tennis kids' coming from the nearby courts.
I heard Uriel scolding himself after missing a shot.
I heard Amy singing along to her ipod and I could envision her dance-like stroke, in perfect tune with her voice.
I heard Stacey's laughter, always laughing while maintaing her spot as our number one player
I heard JR's constant connections to NatGeo and The History Channel
Ricky's excuses, Steven's odd outbursts, Alex's jokes, Siji's sweet sweet endearing encouragement to his friends, Alejandra's quickly spoken input to everyone else's
conversations
My tennis kids. The 13 and 14 year olds that have managed to make me huff and puff like a dragon and laugh like a child seconds later. The same kids who have made 14 hour Saturdays at the courts so enjoyable. Kids who have filled 6 ams with questions and curiosities, insisting on explicit answers regarding the number of new balls they'd get, where we would eat lunch, who they were playing with, when we'd get home.
When I finished running today, I retreated to the courts to aid in the completion of practice. After correcting a few strokes, wishing many "buena suertas," I bid farewell to my kids with the promise of a carne asada (BBQ) if they came back from districts with a boys and girls team trophy. By the time I re
ached the school, a good 100 steps away, I could still hear them,"MIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, we hope you win your race! MIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, we miss you! MIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, GOOOOOOOOD LUCK!"
I love the love that bounces within my tennis kids.
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