I started playing tennis again a couple of summers ago, after a twenty-year hiatus. I found myself right back where I was before, absolutely loving every second of it: the strategy, the effort, and the people, too.
As I started to connect to tennis communities based out of Portland’s parks, my friend Harrison said I should play with this French guy named Clément. I kept asking for his contact information, but Harrison kept not sharing it. We are both busy and easily distracted people.
As my forehand and footwork progressed from mediocre to passable, I stumbled upon an issue of Portland Tennis Courterly in one of those plastic distribution boxes outside a public tennis court. I read every word, and there he was: Clément Daube had written a short essay about Roland Garros and how he fell back in love with competitive tennis via park tennis in Portland. Not only did I deeply relate, but now I could finally track this dude down! That’s exactly what I did, because that’s how obsessed I am with finding fun people to play tennis with, bonus points if you are French, and there is nothing creepy about that. I too am French, and after over a decade in the States, I’m seeking my people. I never have to explain myself to them; it’s nice.
Anyone who’s played with Clément can’t help but love him. He will do that: play, have a good time, and bring the fun kind of drama. You can’t blame him; is tennis even tennis without the drama? There will be French swearing, unsolicited but helpful technical advice, a lot of trash-talking about Americans, French people, BBQs that starts at 3 p.m., the price of cheese, pickleball, and everything in between, including ourselves, laughing out loud about the holes in our tennis shoes because we are cheap French people raised on Decathlon sneakers who fake-throw our racquets whenever we miss a shot. Entertaining and funny kind of drama.
Clément has an undeniable passion for tennis and life; it’s hard not to be drawn into his world. He is also very enthusiastic about being a Parisian. That’s how he introduced himself the first time we met. I quickly volleyed back that it wasn’t something to be proud of. He laughed, and I knew we’d become good friends. According to anyone who is not from Paris, Parisians are losers. Conversely, anyone who is Parisian—which means being born intra muros (in one of the districts within the city limits), and preferably having roots that extend back multiple generations—believes Parisians do it best. The “it” they supposedly do better means absolutely nothing. It’s a national debate, especially in sports.
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One unexpectedly magical spring day, Clément and I met up to rally at a park in NE. I was trying to take it easy following an injury, which is really hard to do with Clément, even though he always goes easy on me so I can improve my game. We kept taking lengthy water breaks, chatting and enjoying the sun. Eventually, I decided to be wise and throw in the towel for the day.
As we packed up, he pulled out a film camera from his bag. He looked somber as he took photos of people playing in the heat of the afternoon. I realized it was his last time playing as a Portlander. He was moving back to Paris with his family in a few days. During the flourishing of our friendship, Clément had become a father, and his wife’s work visa was about to expire. Life stuff; it was time to throw in the towel on the American Dream, with no hard feelings. It all made sense: if you are going to have a family, play tennis, and be a scientist, all at once, you’re probably better off doing it in France. Yet, I’m writing these words to make clear that the Portland Tennis Courterly community reserves the right to be irrationally devastated by his departure.
Next time you are in Paris, remember to reach out to Clément, if you can find him. Tell him you are from Portland and go play tennis with him. You might be one of those lucky individuals who will have a once-in-a-lifetime experience hitting with a real Parisian tennis player who knows how to put a smile on people’s faces—which is not very Parisian of him at all!
