Hola!
If you’ve landed here, welcome.
This is The Underdog Race to 2.8, and I’m honored you’ve taken a moment to read these words.
My name is Fernando Gumma. A Tennis lover.
Someone who once dreamed big on a dusty court, only to later store that dream in a forgotten drawer.
Until now.
I was born in Argentina in 1969, a kid like many others in Mar del Plata, where summers were made of sea, sun, and tennis. I picked up my first racket at 10, starry-eyed and full of wonder, inspired by our own Guillermo Vilas, who made tennis feel like poetry written with sweat and grit.
By 14, I was competing at the national level.
Stopped.
By 18, I was playing Padel.
But at 20, life whispered something else : studies, work, responsibilities, the rollercoaster we all ride.
One day led to another, and then... 33 years flew by.
For over three decades, my racket gathered dust somewhere I can’t even remember. And I forgot what it felt like to breathe through a rally, to lose track of time chasing a yellow ball under the sun, to hear the rhythm of a bounce echo in your chest like a second heartbeat.
Then came January 2023.
I picked up a racket again.
And my body screamed.
Short breath. Ankle pain. Low back pain. Arm pain. Honestly? Pain everywhere.
But something else was louder: that joy.
That emotional rescue.
That voice from the past that reminded me who I really am.
Tennis had never truly left me.
It had shaped me in ways I’d only now come to understand.
And then, a year later, January 2024, I had a heart attack.
A STEMI.
I was lucky. No damage to the heart. But the message was loud and clear:
Time is not a given.
If you have a dream that speaks to your soul, now is the time.
So I let go of every activity in my life that didn’t bring fulfillment.
I took a long, honest look at how I was spending my time, where my energy was going, and what was coming back in return.
Anything that felt empty, forced, or disconnected from my essence... I gently but firmly walked away from it.
No more work or routines that dulled my spirit.
Life had just reminded me, in the most visceral way, that time is precious—and I no longer wanted to waste a single drop of it on things that didn’t light me up inside.
Today, 365 days after the STEMI, I set a goal that came straight from the gut, clear, bold, and maybe a little crazy: to reach Cat. 2.8 level before I turn 60.
It is not just about tennis.
It is about reclaiming a part of myself that had been waiting in silence for decades.
It is about proving, to myself more than anyone else, that I could still strive, still grow, still chase excellence, even with a body that had seen better days and a heart that had been through fire.
Cat. 2.8 isn’t just a number. It’s a symbol.
A line drawn in the sand between who I was and who I’m becoming.
It’s about passion. Commitment. Rediscovery.
It’s my way of saying: I’m still in the game. I still believe in effort. I still believe in dreams.
Some people want to run marathons. Others want to climb mountains.
Me? I want to stand on that court, breathe deeply, and know that I gave it everything.
So if you’re out there feeling the itch to start again, to push your limits, to find that thing that lights you up inside, know that you’re not alone.
This blog is for all of us.
The dreamers, the late starters, the comeback kids.
Welcome to The Winding Road to 2.8.
The court is calling.
