Tennis Elbow

It really sucks to have tennis elbow and not even play tennis.  I get that is just a name for tendonitis and anything can cause it, but it is called tennis elbow so it makes me think of tennis.  I took lessons when I was a kid.  I’m not really all that athletically inclined, but I had some really cool tennis shoes.  They were old school (not old school at the time because it was 1980, they were new school then) white with a blue Nike swoosh.  Pretty sure it wasn’t even called a swoosh back then.  I also had a Chris Evert tennis racket.  It was badass.  I would stand in front of a wall at my parent’s house and hit the ball back and forth.  I would have pretend John McEnroe meltdowns and scream at the wall.  I wanted to be just like him.  I was mad I didn’t have a big white afro.  I did have wristbands and a headband.  I wore it everywhere when Wimbledon came on during the summer.  I also thought it looked cool and very professional to keep tennis balls in my shorts’ pockets.  You had to be ready to serve at a moment’s notice. Incidentally, grunting when serving was crucial to the appearance of looking really focused.  I just knew the combination of my shoes, racket, wrist/head bands, balls in pocket strategy and grunting would get me a spot on the professional tennis circuit. 

One day, I’d be playing at Wimbledon.  It was even just cool to say Wimbledon.  Try it…say it really loud.  I got in trouble for wearing my wristbands to church.  You had to be prepared though; you just never knew when you were going to get that tap on the shoulder and request to step in for Chris Evert.  I had to be ready.  I’d take getting in trouble.  I was that dedicated.   Even just the smell of new tennis balls was exciting.  Shut up…you know you smelled them, too.    So, I suppose I can understand why I’m suffering from tennis elbow now.  I was two steps from being a professional tennis player for God’s sake.