Nauseous

I've been slacking on my tennis lately. Between California and camping, and then pack meeting last night, I've missed both my team practices and social practices on Saturday morning for a couple weeks. When I called Ed (my coach) to tell him that I was missing practice once again, he told me that the league was starting on this Saturday, and that he only needed 5 players - 4 to play 2 doubles teams and 1 to play single. He was going to ask the players who actually came to practice (was that a dig? I believe so) to play in this first competition, and he would only call me and ask me to play if they ended up needing me.

I felt a little disappointed, not much, but a little. Maybe a week of just watching how the tournament is run would be a good thing. The disappointment turned into acceptance, laced with relief.

And then Ed called me.

Yeah, only four women showed up to practice and they all wanted to play on Saturday. Since they were there, they put dibs on playing in the doubles games. Which left me to play the singles game.

Me. The worst player on the team. The newbie who didn't have a team to play with on my level, so the next team up took me in. A charity case. So's they don't have to forfeit.

I'm playing in a singles match. Crap.

As Ed was telling me about the match, he predicted how the game would go:

"You'll probably be playing against the best person on their team. The players closer to your level will be in the doubles match."

"It won't take long. Maybe just a few minutes. The game will be over before you know it."

"Stop being so spastic. Just try to hit the ball back into the court - not over the wall.."

"You won't win. She'll wipe up the court with you."

"Try to watch your opponent...see what you can become."

He really knows how to boost a girl's confidence, huh?

I felt like I was going to throw up. I started to sweat. My heart rate got all fluttery, and I started asking questions about what I needed to bring, writing it down with shaking hands. I am seriously freaking out and I think Ed could tell.

I mumbled something about how at least I would look cute in my tennis skirt, and Ed agreed that while yes, that was important, I might also want to come practice for the next two nights. He'd meet me there.

I can do this, right? It'll be fast and hopefully painless. Keep my expectations low and just enjoy it for what it is - experience. Try not to cry. Or throw up.

Troy asked me if I wanted him to come with the boys and cheer me on. My immediate response was "absolutely not!". But then he played the blog card.

"I could take a picture...you could blog about it."

And that made all the difference.