My brother was an amazing tennis player. At one point, his coaches were wanting him to go pro but my mother wasn't keen on the idea. He ultimately walked away from tennis but came back to it later in life. When I was young, I remember him walking up to Heather Hill and teaching me about tennis. Even then, I was doing it for the (non existent) Gram and was more concerned with the tennis fashions and my Gatorade. Bruce taught me other sports, but tennis was the only one that I really enjoyed and continued to play.
Moving to Florida was cool because one could play tennis outdoors most months out of the year. Bruce and I would randomly play and it was some of my most treasured time with him. We would hit the courts for hours. I was eleven years younger so even though he was much better, I figured that I would take advantage of his bad knees and back. I mean, it was only a matter of time before his body gave out and I won, right? Oddly enough, wrong. :( I remember going up there with my niece and her running around the court while my brother beat up on my like I stole something. Ahh sweet memories. These games gave way to the Siblings Cup. I believed Bruce purchased a trophy at a garage sale and renamed it. He would carefully construct displays with the cup and text me pictures to bait me into a match. Those texts always cracked me up. Bruce remains the funniest person I ever knew.
My brother died three years ago and changed my world forever. Up until today I've been scared to play tennis again. Not only did I have the fear of being rusty as hell, but now I was worried about having an emotional breakdown on the court. "40-Love? Bruce used to ALWAYS say that!" *Ian falls to ground rocking himself back and forth while his opponent looks over at him with an alarmed expression* His old partner reached out to play with me and I wouldn't. I always had an excuse of some sort. After some time, he gave up asking. I'm not really sure why today was deemed the day, but I decided so at the end of my workout the morning. I rolled up the the court and it was empty (Thank you, Sweet Baby Jesus)! My grip has begun to disintegrate and it took about ten minutes before I remembered how to hold a racquet. My brother's voice was in my head telling me how told old my head and to follow through. Soon enough I was serving the ball the way I wanted. It felt so good to be doing something which I used to love so much. It made me smile, which is a rare thing these days. Now that the fear is over I'm excited to return to the courts. I hope the tennis world is ready. You all do know, Serena is my cousin, right? Ok, that's a lie, but she's Black so maybe we're related somehow. I'm just praying that my Williams genes kick in soon as I went ahead and quit my job, as I plan to live off my winnings, endorsement deals and HSN fashion collections.
