Confessions of a Bipolar Tennis Player

I just don't understand how I can go out and play the tennis game of my life one day, and the next day look like I've never picked up a racquet. I just don't understand how I can serve 3 sets without a double fault, and in a tie breaker, can't even hit the ball over the net, let alone get it in the box.

When I was young, my nerves could face any competitive enemy, stare them in the eye and never break a sweat. Now, menopause has somehow sucked that out of me, and my sweats break out in the middle of the night, and to my dismay....in the middle of a match. My limbs shake and my mind travels around the world, and reminds me of all the faults I've ever had. The voice that I've always been able to quiet is screaming now, and I can't silence it.

I think I might be bipolar.

It happened yesterday. A great first set. Won 6-0. Then I hit a forehand out. "Big deal" you say. In my head I hear "Well, its all over now, there goes the set" So I resorted to finding my long lost, two hits ago, rhythm. I bounce the ball three times before serving, hoping a bit of obsessive compulsive behavior would somehow set me right. I just got bored. I tried grunting on my serve. I just got a sore throat.

We lost the second set. No suprise here, saw it coming on the second point. We were in the tie breaker, and then I double faulted twice....in a row....our two point lead was now tied. "Oh God", I'm praying now..."please don't let me serve again". These things attached to my shoulder were now rubber. The smooth strokes were karate chops.... my turn came to serve again, as I was thinking how could God abandoned me in a time like this. I passed my partner and whispered "Watch for the dink." I resorted to survival. Get that damn ball over the net! Dink one, and we got the point. I lined up for the next point thinking "I'm groveling and I don't care? Dink. Ace.

I wish I could say we won....but we didn't. I walked away wondering how these two people came to inhabit my body. The self assured athlete and the wimp.

I kept thinking of calling my shrink and begging for an emergency session. Instead I called a fellow tennis player, shrink, she works with the kids at Bolletierri and whined. She being of the positive essence, gave me great encouragement. When I get to feeling like quitting she reassured me that its just temporary. I keep her messages on my phone for 911 emergency tennis help.

I think I might be bipolar.

Today I played the tennis game of my life. I served well, I moved like one hot momma. I just waited for the opponents to drill me one at the net. I got most of them, and my reflexes were as good as any 20 year old. My forehand blasted crosscourt winners. I felt like I was a kid again, staring down the enemy. The wimpy voice that tried to yell at me was silenced.

I did find a key today to help me get back on track. I found myself sitting down on the bench during the change overs. Never did that before. I don't need to rest. Let's play ball, has always been my motto. Now, the menopausal momma wants to rest her weary bones, just for a second, before she jumps up to face the enemy in her head one more time.

We won, my partner and I. 6-4, 6-1.



Judy Robertson

open letter to Billie Jean King

I hope this letter reaches you, through all the emails, phone calls, and daily memos. I just wanted to say thank you for all your given to me personally as a woman, and a tennis player.

I even think my dear mother would thank you. She listened to the endless sound of tennis balls hitting our garage door, as I stood in the gutter, and blasted my serve just like I saw you do so many times on TV. I mimicked every move. I would pick a spot and try to hit it over and over again. The returning ball was my constant opponent, so I never lacked for a rally. I don't recall ever doing this after my dad came home from work. I think after a long day at the Chevron service station, he was tired, and wanted to enjoy his easy chair, can of beer, and the evening news. It wasn't the case with our next door neighbor. The back door would open, as they would plead for me to stop. I just changed locations, and found a wall in the alley to continue my match.

I played when I was a kid in Southern Calif, in the 60s. I learned on the public courts, and every summer would sign up for every session. I played all the local tournaments, and won, not only in my division, but as I played up. An eight year old, beating the 16 year olds was a victory for me, and devastated the older kids. I listened in on my friends private lessons from the pros, and immediately put into practice what I heard. Even today, I listen in on the pros at my tennis club and smile. It takes me way back, to when I was just a kid, wanting someone...anyone to discovery me...and give me a chance in the big leagues.

I became too cool for tennis during my teen years....the lack of opportunity for women to compete was replace by wanting to fit in with my peers. I even tried to hide my tennis tan...I was the only one with white feet! But not now! I wear my tennis tan proudly. My white feet are a testament to the pure joy I have on the clay courts. I play on lots of teams, and take lessons from the pros. I pronounce to my family, every time there is a tennis tournament on TV that the HD set is mine! No Sponge Bob Square Pants this week!

I know you have received many deserving awards. My gosh, the mecca of tennis is named after you. But I want to stand and applaud you, for giving this young kid a vision for greatness and a reason to hit thousands of tennis balls on every wall in Ventura. I am 54 now, and I have people stop me often and say "you have such a classic style of tennis...you play like Billie Jean"...or they say..."you look like someone..." "yes, yes, I know. I look like Billie Jean". I live in Sarasota Florida. Martina lives here, and I often see her eating at Simons, a local hangout. One day we passed each other at the exit. She did a double take, looking at me. I let her have her privacy, but what I really wanted to say was "Yes, yes, I look like Billie Jean!"

The other day I was filling out one of those online question/answer survey. Who would you like to meet....no hesitation here - Billie Jean.

If your ever in Sarasota Florida, Please stop by. I know a few walls, that could use a match or two.