Post by Neytiri on Sept 12, 2010 3:03:44 GMT -5
Miss Ingrid Schuller
Tennis was my sport. I'd played for a long time and, I'll admit, have gotten quite good at it. I'm judged now at about a 5.0 level of playing, and after moving here to bein teaching at Knoxville, I'd been able to sign up for a local team that hosted matches for players with rankings that high. That didn't seem to be too common in many places I'd stayed before, so I was certainly glad.
I had tied my wavy blonde hair back in a tight ponytail, and I had now changed out of my nice school outfit and into my regular tennis clothes, a short sleeved white tennis shirt fitting snugly and white exercise shorts about coming midway down my upper legs. I looked around and saw nobody else on the courts today, so I set my bag down on the empty bleacher seats. Stretching my arms into the air, I did a few arm circles and leg stretches to be sure I wouldn't strain a muscle. I'd been playing tennis for years now and played very competitively, so the last thing I wanted to do was to be out of a meet because of a pulled muscle.
I grabbed my racket and looked down at my sneakers to be sure they were still tied, and then I made my way at a slow jog to one end of the court. A plastic bucket of tennis balls was left out conveniently, so I reached into the white bucket and grabbed one. Bouncing it hard once, then twice, on the tennis court floor, I let it drop once at my feet, and in a split second I had switched from my left to my right hand and angled my swing. The green ball became a little ball of fury as it darted over the fence and landed hard on the other side, all in less than two seconds. I dropped a second and power hit it to the other end as well, watching it bounce to the ground just within the out of bounds line. Adjusting my angle again for the third hit, I popped the ball just over the net in a beeline for the court surface on the other side, a near impossible hit to counter, since it moved so fast.
Next I switched hands and hit a few four hands with my left arm, and switched back to my right. The tennis balls were scattered across the opposite side of the court, and not one had hit outside the line or not made it across the net. I had one last ball, so I decided to have some fun. With a quick drop, I watched the ball rise and felt my racket swoop down to knock it in midair, the tennis ball flying in the air and banging the top of the fifteen foot high chain link fence at the opposite end of the court with a resounding rattle, then dropping back to the ground. Satisfied, I brushed the back of my smooth hand against my forehead in the heated day. I laughed once, satisfied, then began my strenuous trip around the court to pick up the green balls. Once I had located them all, I put them in the plastic bucket and set it down where I had found it originally. I walked slowly with long strides back to the bleachers and sat, grabbing a cool bottle of water as I sat, looking around the court and the beautiful park nearby.
Tennis was my sport. I'd played for a long time and, I'll admit, have gotten quite good at it. I'm judged now at about a 5.0 level of playing, and after moving here to bein teaching at Knoxville, I'd been able to sign up for a local team that hosted matches for players with rankings that high. That didn't seem to be too common in many places I'd stayed before, so I was certainly glad.
I had tied my wavy blonde hair back in a tight ponytail, and I had now changed out of my nice school outfit and into my regular tennis clothes, a short sleeved white tennis shirt fitting snugly and white exercise shorts about coming midway down my upper legs. I looked around and saw nobody else on the courts today, so I set my bag down on the empty bleacher seats. Stretching my arms into the air, I did a few arm circles and leg stretches to be sure I wouldn't strain a muscle. I'd been playing tennis for years now and played very competitively, so the last thing I wanted to do was to be out of a meet because of a pulled muscle.
I grabbed my racket and looked down at my sneakers to be sure they were still tied, and then I made my way at a slow jog to one end of the court. A plastic bucket of tennis balls was left out conveniently, so I reached into the white bucket and grabbed one. Bouncing it hard once, then twice, on the tennis court floor, I let it drop once at my feet, and in a split second I had switched from my left to my right hand and angled my swing. The green ball became a little ball of fury as it darted over the fence and landed hard on the other side, all in less than two seconds. I dropped a second and power hit it to the other end as well, watching it bounce to the ground just within the out of bounds line. Adjusting my angle again for the third hit, I popped the ball just over the net in a beeline for the court surface on the other side, a near impossible hit to counter, since it moved so fast.
Next I switched hands and hit a few four hands with my left arm, and switched back to my right. The tennis balls were scattered across the opposite side of the court, and not one had hit outside the line or not made it across the net. I had one last ball, so I decided to have some fun. With a quick drop, I watched the ball rise and felt my racket swoop down to knock it in midair, the tennis ball flying in the air and banging the top of the fifteen foot high chain link fence at the opposite end of the court with a resounding rattle, then dropping back to the ground. Satisfied, I brushed the back of my smooth hand against my forehead in the heated day. I laughed once, satisfied, then began my strenuous trip around the court to pick up the green balls. Once I had located them all, I put them in the plastic bucket and set it down where I had found it originally. I walked slowly with long strides back to the bleachers and sat, grabbing a cool bottle of water as I sat, looking around the court and the beautiful park nearby.