Kegels, Scouting Reports & the Tennis Commish – A Day in the Life of Suburban Tennis

I am thinking of pulling surveillance footage from our tennis matches and entering them as a Documentary Short for next year’s Oscars.  I’m pretty sure it would win some award (if only costume design).

While this week started off quiet and drama-free, the end of our match and the subsequent email furry has once again called into question the sanity of suburban mom tennis players.

Our match was on a cold and blustery Thursday afternoon, another “cold day” for our kids, because apparently we have inadvertently approved year-round school since we seem to have weeks off at a time.  My tennis partner this week sends me a text,

“I’m not feeling well.  I feel nauseous, dizzy and feverish.”

I reply, “Don’t worry.  Everyone feels that way when they learn they have to play with me.  You’ll be fine.”

“No,” she types, “I think I may throw up.”

“Perfect!  Now I’ll have some great blog material. I’ll call you Chunks” I write

She replies with a single word, “No.”

Wimp.  So she finds a sub.  And that is EXACTLY what started the process of the pending lawsuit in the NITTL league.

Now I should mention there are 3 Kellys on our team.  We all have our nicknames (I’m the funny one btw), but sometimes people get a little mixed up when writing up some score sheets.  So I’m scheduled to play on Court 3, but for some reason the sheet says Court 4 — they catch the mistake and erase the names to put the right Kelly’s on the right court.  The bell rings and it is time for us to go out to our match.

The eraser mark on the Score Sheet is being entered into evidence.  Apparently whomever erased the name, does not have a first grader and so therefore does not have a big, fat pink eraser and so did not erase fully enough (or at least that is what the forensic specialist has said).  Because if you look at the score sheet under an ultraviolet forensic light source, you can see the faint outline of another name under the one that is written in heavy graphite on top.

But really does it matter?  OH JUST YOU WAIT!

I am completely oblivious to this as I just go out to Court 3 and play with my trusted partner who seems to be my partner in crime at these matches.  Now playing with her is like a security blanket, I know we are going to win, I know we will fight to the end, and I know she will do her Kegels when I yell at her in the match.

We have a tough match on our court and lose the first set in tie break (7-6, 7-5).  We are in the middle of our second set and it is 3-3.  There is 40 seconds on the timer.  I yell to my partner to run with the tennis ball to the serving spot and bounce the ball so that she will “be in motion” and we will have to play the game.  (Note: If the match were to end now, we would lose.  We need to win 4-3 to make the match a tie.  To add to the pressure, we are playing the first place team, so there is a lot of bragging rights.)

My partner says, “I can’t.  I have to pee.  I’m going to run to the bathroom and we will pause the timer.”  She says this as she is standing cross-legged and the whites of her eyes are slowly turning yellow.

I look at her in horror because I know if she leaves the court, the team will call a “delay” and take the match.  I tell her, “Do your Kegels woman!  And you need to hurry and serve!”

I know, I know — the irony is not lost on me.  I have turned into Krazy Town.

But there is no time to dwell on my craziness as my partner takes a deep breath, does the biggest Kegel possible and runs to the servers box and starts bouncing the ball.  The buzzer goes off.  Excellent, now we have to play the game.

Courts 1 & 2 are finished, but we notice Court 4 is just standing around and chatting which is highly distracting to us, as we both have an undiagnosed case of adult ADD. We try to ignore them, but quickly drop two points (it is 0-30) and the girl on Court 4 is standing in the doubles alley watching us and taking this long, waterfall like gulp of cold rushing water.  This is not helping out my partner and her Kegels.

“Court 4 what’s going on?” I say

“Oh, we are just having a disagreement and need to go get some pros,” they reply.

I’m intrigued, as I do have a blog to write, but tell them to pipe down as they are breaking what little concentration we have.  Once we shut off that waterfall drinking girl, we were able to win the game and thus tie the match.

WOO HOO!  Or so we thought…..

So Court 4 is still arguing over when the buzzer rang and if they need to play another game or not.   Our team says the match is over and we won, they say they should play another.  I could get into all the minutia involved in that court’s issues, but we have our own issues that I need to get to.  So Court 4 finally ends and there is a congregation of pros, cell phones and rule books trying to decide what the official ruling should be on Court 4.  Selfishly, we are happy, we got the tie and clink our Diet Cokes in celebration.

Our match was last Thursday and I notice that the scores have still not been entered on Monday.  I go to the front desk and ask if the Court 4 issue has been resolved yet.

“Actually there is a new issue,” the lady pro says, “And it is about you.”

Oh great.  I of course think this is somehow related to Krazy Town and her tape measuring ways.  I’m sure she has read the blog and is pressing charges.

But no, it is about that eraser mark.

Seems that the ladies playing on Court 4 thought they were playing me.  So, and I quote, “I recognized Kelly D as a player I have played before and so took out my NITTL notebook and read my notes on her from the last time we played.”

Hold on.  Back up the truck.  NITTL notebook? There are notes on me?  This is getting good.

“Yes,” says our pro. “And when they thought they were playing you they were studying the notes in the lobby before the match.”

Honey, you are wasting your time.

When our opponent went to enter the scores the next day, she realized that in fact she did not play Kelly D but instead played a Kelly C and this was highly deceptive.  (We are tricky out here in the suburbs — you should check our net heights too)

She was in such a frenzy that she called the Commish of NITTL (not sure if his title is Commish, but I kinda like it).

And to further quote her argument, “The scary thing is we almost didn’t notice this.”

I may need to teach her the true definition of scary.

So I ask our pro, “So what exactly do they want?”

“They want a forfeit.”

I ask my pro if I could have a face to face meeting with her.  I’m pretty sure if she sat down across from me and I go all J.K.Simmons Whiplash on her, our problems would be solved.

She seemed to think I have caused enough chaos for the day (probably not a good time to mention I was blogging about this too).  So everyone is waiting for the official ruling of the Commish.  Because no one has anything better to do than to study a 8.5×11″ paper and the eraser mark that is on it.

At press time the issue is still not resolved.  But I am once again reminded that tennis ladies are truly nuts.