Serena Williams Research Paper

Game Point: The Journey

The score is almost identical with Serena Williams, the number one singles women’s tennis player in the world, owning the first set; her sister, Venus Williams, claimed the second set. My heart races knowing how much they both have on the line; for Serena it’s a chance to continue her Grand Slam bid. As they battle out the third set to finish the match, I sit back and reminisce about my surprising, even to me, tennis career. It started out with my own sister, hitting a ball around on an old overgrown, weedy playground court a short walk from my grandparents’ house. We were just focused on hitting the ball and getting it over the net. Now, we are the number one doubles on our high school tennis team and in the top

four singles. We hear our fellow teammates talk about how they came to climb the ranking ladder with their numerous tennis lessons, some since they were five years old, and we see that we can never compete with these accomplishments, but we know that we have worked just as hard, if not harder, to be where we are today. Since my twin and I have never had a tennis lesson, we have a firsthand witness that tennis experience as a youth is unnecessary because working hard by researching, practicing, and competing is all that a new player needs for success. With both of our drives and determination, we have self-taught and coached ourselves to be the players we are today; this gives us more pride than any of our teammates could dream of.
With the new technology age comes new opportunities to learn; we used the Internet to its fullest in the beginning stages of our journey. YouTube became my best friend and, as the nerd that I was as a sophomore, took careful notes of videos that highly skilled instructors made. They showed every detail of the key to the fastest forehand and the trickiest backhand. We would take notes and then drive the five minutes to a playground tennis court that we had never paid attention to as kids. Every warm summer evening we would play as the sun went down over the green trees which shaded the shallow flowing stream into which we lost numerous tennis balls. We would apply our notes to our playing until the single light governing the court turned on its dull shine and the darkness creeped in and blinded us from the sphere we were trying to hit. At that point we were happy when our lobs, which soured into the air with frustration, turned into points where one of us scored against the other. Soon, we moved on to researching drills that we would constantly complete with our eight worn out tennis balls that we kept in an Easter basket. That rustic tennis court soon saw games being played and more experimental drills being tried. Looking back, I’m surprised at our dedication and that we didn’t get discouraged. In our junior year we found a beat up tennis instruction book and bought it for a quarter. Again, the long note taking process commenced and we learned the secrets of yet another professional’s mind. The mind controls the body, and our journey shows this beauty.
The year that we started playing tennis, a new coach arrived. Just two years out of high school, she, the sister of one of our classmates, was a district champion tennis alumna from our home school. At our first practice, she retaught us how to hold our rackets, and she could tell that we had never played before except for our rusty practices. Over the course of that season, we enjoyed hanging out with our senior friend, and slowly but surely we rose on the team ladder. Practice was all that we seemed to do, and I loved every second of it. The nice breeze of the autumn air, which slightly nipped at my ears, and the falling leaves that evenly laid on the flat expensive looking school courts was a nice atmosphere that felt like home from the start. The drills that were once experimental turned into a normal thing; at school practice we would easily beat our team mates, that only a month before had hailed as impossible competitors. Practice turned into a scheduled way to bond as sisters and since our coach had us playing doubles, we moved as though we had telepathy. Friday nights we brought ice-cream to our old court and after long sweaty games, we took advantage of the squeaky high hanging swings to enjoy our cool treats. It was a way to be free from school for a couple classes a day, and we ended up making twenty four new friends at school practice. The end of the season soon came and we were playing fourth doubles on the team. Our coaches once told us that they had fun watching who we could beat each week. The next year soon was upon us, and the court at the playground was now our home. Our golden retriever, a sweetheart nine year old pup, watched as we hit the faded green ball over the net at new angles and record speeds for us at the time. We practiced more on weekends with our coaches in the cold air and went to doubles districts in Hershey Park, something that I was sure was not even an option a few months before. The season ended and we had moved up to playing singles on the team. Last summer, our senior year, we met our coaches twice a week to play hard doubles matches in hope for the year’s districts to be a success. They say that practice makes perfect; there is no perfect in tennis, but practice can make you a million times better; it did for us.
Competition was what we were preparing for, and now my memory brings me to the Eshermans’ tournament.

It was the match that we have been waiting for all week. We had battled out set after set and we were in the top three doubles left in the tournament. As we faced our coaches on the green, dusty clay court that we had practiced on against them throughout the summer, laughing and improving night after night, I knew that all the work was worth it. We were playing two of the best tennis player I know, and this time it wasn’t practice; we were playing them in competition. Shot after shot went by, and after an amazing comeback on our part, the match ended with us losing a close breathtaking set. We had seen how far we had come by almost winning against our coaches, the people who had helped make us the players we are today. Competitions like this one only reinforced why we practiced and worked hard. It reminded me of last year’s districts where we played another set of highly trained identical twins, and lost by a small margin. That competition, which has only propelled our intensity of practice this senior year, and others like it: the mini matches at practice, the matches we play against the teams around us, the nerve racking seeding tournaments that place us on the team, are tests for us; they showed us how we improved and what we had to work on. Our first ever competition that we won was one of the best days I’ve experienced; as we walked off the court smiling wide

smiles, we never had thought that we would make it that far. It was what we had worked for. Competitions show you where you are and where you can go; they are a critical stepping stone in any journey worth taking.
Soon this tennis season will come to an end, like high school, and before I know it, also college.

My life will be unfolding as I close this chapter in my life. I know that I will keep playing tennis; it is a life sport and I expect myself to be like my coach’s eighty year old, slightly hunched over aunt whom we have played numerous times, and who is still playing strong. The lessons that I have learned in tennis have prepared me for life; these are a few lessons that I have learned well: everything begins with love, take advantage of second chances, and no matter how close you are to losing you can always make a comeback. I will remember the struggle and the fun that my sister and I have shared and it will inspire me to keep my determination throughout my life. For us, tennis is not just a sport like it is for most players; it was a journey, and a journey that we are still on. Like life, tennis is something that we can always improve on and we will have to fight to improve ourselves until we can’t play anymore. Life is a struggle, but with hard work and determination, learning, practicing, and competing, I’ve learned that I can conquer

anything.
As I come back to the present and focus on the tennis match that I’m watching on my recently new laptop, I am just in time to watch the last point that the sisters are fighting for. Serena slams the ball right past her Venus, winning the match and all the glory. I wonder to myself how she got to where she is; did she start out like us or was she trained as a young child? This is something that in my free time I will have to investigate, or maybe I will allow myself to imagine that she and her sister are like my sister and I. I connect with their journey and I see us as the teenage versions of the fierce competitors on the computer screen. I smile to myself and I cannot wait until the next time I feel the court below my feet, breathe in the cool autumn air, and hold the sweaty racket in my palm.