The warmup ignited my spirits. Each vibration of the strings and every grip of the gritty surface beneath my rubber soles infused me with energy. I was eager to begin the game.
“This is it,” I thought, gripping my racket. From the innocent dreams of a nine-year-old to the driven varsity player I have become, this showdown had been anticipated. I peered across the net at my opponent. Bounding on the balls of her feet, she stared back at me with her ice-blue eyes. This wasn’t just any match. It was me against my sixteenth year, my most formidable opponent.
With the score at "Love all, first serve," I felt invincible as I sent my serve slicing through the air. I won the first game effortlessly. Just like the beginning of 2022, a year of firsts. I had a loving best friend, a boyfriend, a driver’s license, even a car– a shiny ticket to freedom. It felt like I’d hit an ace. Score: 1-0 (Me)
But reality soon crashed down on me like a thunderous serve that I couldn’t return. A new driver’s worst enemy is always herself. Merging onto a busy highway in Las Vegas, my inexperience got the best of me. The Kia Sorento I slammed into on my passenger’s side got the rest of me. My newfound freedom (and confidence) was totaled. All of a sudden, sixteen didn’t seem so sweet. Score: 1-2
Determined to bounce back, I turned to my faith in God. Choosing to attend “Kairos”, a Catholic religious retreat, was exactly what “kairos” means in Greek– “a moment for decision.” Faith became the topspin on my shots, a powerful force guiding me through adversity. Out of an early funk, I was ready to get back in the game. Score: 3-2 (Me)
But focus can waver. I lost mine over the next few months. The inevitable drama of high school relationships became the errors in my play. What I thought were consistent strategies turned into misses. I’d failed to anticipate that with years of maturity, sometimes we outgrow even our best-matched doubles partners. A breakup with my first serious boyfriend as well as a long-term friend, felt like I’d lost my footing and that I’d never get it back. Double fault. Score: 3-4.
It was then that I glimpsed my parents in the stands. My life-long pillars of support, from year one to sixteen. They’d never missed a match. Their endless sacrifices, their unyielding love, and their constant support meant that I had the best coaches of all. Cheering me on, their voices rose above my negative self-talk. Inspired, I turned my internal struggles into external wins. Not for myself this time, but for others. Joining the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Student of the Year Campaign and raising over $50k for cancer research rejuvenated my belief in not only what I was capable of, but also what a year of life is worth.
So, how did my match with my sixteenth year end? Spoiler: it wasn’t just about keeping score or even rallying through the highs and lows. Each point taught me something valuable. Something I’ll take with me into every year of life I’m blessed enough to have. I’ve come to realize that life, like tennis, isn’t about constant victories. It’s about recognizing your weaknesses, adapting your game, seeking out great coaches, and sometimes giving your opponent the benefit of the doubt.
My sixteenth year served me love and loss, faith and failure. But let’s be real; the match is far from over. I’m ready for the next set.