Slouching Towards 1.5 by Amy Lam

This story originally printed in the Fall 2025 (Brown) Issue of the Portland Tennis Courterly

 

Slouching Towards 1.5

by Amy Lam


Sung to the tune of The Go-Go’s “We Got the Beat” chorus: 

I got the pop 

I got the pop 

I got the pop
Yeah, I got the pop! 


After months and months of playing with an off-the-rack aluminum stick with sad strings, I finally got a proper racquet so I could thwack red balls the size of grapefruits and hear a fat thump that’s somewhere in between the proper sweet-spot pop and the soft thud of a wool ball tumbling in a dryer. Green dots followed. Now, by the miracle of YouTube tutorials, I can sporadically hit a forehand with just enough whip and velocity to crack a clean pop from a regular Penn 4 or whatever. This may not seem a big deal for all of you rec players born with sweatbands on your wrists, but I’m the non-active type who took a walking class to earn required credits in my community college days forever ago. 


It’s been more than a year since I stepped onto the cracked asphalt at the Essex Park courts for the first time—not one athletic bone in my flat-footed body—and I’ve since spent tens of hours flailing around our beautiful city’s public courts. I’ve hit in the shade of the towering firs at Mt. Scott; next to the porta potty at Woodstock Park; at the pristine Alex Rovello Memorial court; in the dark at Clinton City Park; at the Sellwood Park courts that had once been illegally converted to pickleball courts. I’ve taken lessons at Mt. Tabor, both west and east courts; admired the lush weeds sprouting from the base of the nets at Kenilworth Park; heard the roar of the Pickle’s crowd at Walker Stadium in Lents Park. Once, I tried to play at Colonel Sumner, but I was in a bad mood and there were three people waiting ahead of me so I stomped off like a cranky tennis Karen. Between classes, drills, and sweating like a maniac swatting at a ball machine by myself, I’ve spent the most time at PTC hitting out of bounds or into the net. 


What have I got to show for all this time spent acquiring a repetitive stress injury sending me to the physical therapist? Let’s put it this way: Can I rally for more than a minute if my life depended on it? I prefer to be cremated. How’s my serve? Ha! What about tennis-induced negative self talk? Excellent. No coaching needed for this. I am a writer, after all, so I’ve been living with mental anguish like it’s a chronic condition without a salve. 


And, yet, I persist, one split step at a time. Driven by some inexplicable desire to imperceptibly improve at something that doesn’t really matter, I keep buying shorts with big pockets. Maybe, just maybe, another year from now I’ll have a serve and you can hear me singing, to the tune of Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline”: First serve of mine, bum bum bum, good times never seemed so good.

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