Why everyone should play bad tennis

Most of you, my awesome readers, are competitive, kick-ass perfectionists. You work your butts off to be at the top of your game and the top of your field. You read Outliers and so you know it does take 10,000 hours — and you willingly burn them up.

Which is exactly why you should play Bad Tennis or take up something like it. Try a sport, a passion, an artistic pursuit. Something that you are wholeheartedly bad at; that you will never excel in; where you will never be a rockstar. This choice-to-be-less-than-perfect will teach you acceptance. It will teach you about boundaries. It will also be your sanctuary from the stress of Life in the Perfection Lane.

Let me tell you how hard it was for me to learn to play Bad Tennis. I come from a tennis family filled with champs going back to my state and college champ father, who was nicknamed “Bounce.” Yeah, you got that. I guess it’s better than “Ace.” Our family scrapbooks are jammed with photos of kin victoriously leaping over the net. My brother and sister-in-law, my niece and nephew, are all tennis rockstars. Doug and Leslie are fresh off an amazing summer at Martha’s Vineyard’s glorious Boathouse, where they loved teaching some of our country’s best and the brightest. Last summer, Doug was Tennis Director at the Tennis Hall of Fame in Newport, Rhode Island. Matt just won another tournament — both singles and doubles. DC attorney Mallori played for UVA in Charlottesville, and her awesome new sports-smart husband Tommy is getting a Masters in Health Management.

Get the picture?

Then there’s me. So what happened, you ask? Due to an accident and long stint in the hospital when I was a kidlet, it was clear early on that tennis was never going to be my strong suit. Instead, swimming became my passion — and thankfully, the sport gave me back my functionality. I was as at home in a tank suit as the rest of my family was in tennis whites.

Over the years, I made tentative stabs at playing good tennis. My generous brother sent me racquets. I fell in love with my best partner — the Little Prince Tennis Ball machine. But no matter how much I loved it, my attempts were for naught.

Until I realized one day how utterly fabulous I felt with every volley — even if these returns had no resemblance to what Matt Man can do. Finally, I accepted my Bad Tennis. I now embrace every moment when I can persuade someone to play with me. I know it’ll be the break I need; my escape from the relentless pursuit of excellence that dominates much of the rest of my life.

What’s your Bad Tennis? Bad Chef? Bad Painter? I think I know more than a few Bad Dancers. Leave a comment or write me at hello@guruofnew.com.