I couldn’t sleep that night. The nervousness could not be suppressed and was preventing me from resting. The next day, however, I found my thoughts swarming with jumbled exhilaration. I was excited to play my first match in 2 years. I checked my tennis bag one last time and headed to the car.
My opponent’s name was Fatima. She was the most phenomenal tennis player I had ever seen. Her strokes were incredibly swift and her feet were lightning. Her forehand and backhand were executed with near perfection. She wielded the power of a bear while appearing no larger than I. Despite that, I still had hope of vanquishing this incredible adversary just like I did previous years. The car stopped; we had arrived at the tournament. My mind immediately raced back to all the efforts I had done to arrive here. In the month, I had trained with great determination and unearthly stamina so I could get better. This meant having barely any time to do anything else besides tennis and school. Every evening, I could be found practicing my serves or doing hours of drills to improve my speed. This meant exercising at least five times a week to be in-shape during matches and tournaments.
I started playing tennis when I was 3 years old. I could barely walk and I was already holding a racquet. Tennis was more than a sport to me, it was my whole life. When I started competing, I would collect victories after victories, soon realizing I had a talent for this sport. I maintained my ranking of second of Qatar for over 4 years and had the opportunity to travel and win tournaments all over the world- Abu Dhabi, France, Kuwait, and Spain. Unfortunately, I had to stop competing 2 years ago to focus on school but never stopped practicing. Today was going to be my first match in a long time.
I stepped on the court; my adrenaline was flowing. After three hours of intense rallying, of running back and forth, I had won my first match of the season.