Oggiono tournment gave me the 3.2.
Ironically… not bad at all, considering how little care I gave to this tournament.
No special prep. No plan. No sharp focus.
Just a name on the draw and a heart that, as always, wants to play.
Saturday morning, I hit the court for my first match.
Then a nice lunch based on Goulash in Refuge close to the courts with my family.
Gosh, I had to skip the wine (trying to stay light)
Back to the court for a second match in the afternoon.
Both matches won.
Sunday came with its own twist.
No warm-up, no strategy session, just a jump straight from an art exhibition to a tough match.
Not exactly how you dream of stepping into competition, right?
By Monday, my body was yelling at me.
Aches everywhere, the full orchestra: legs, back, arm, you name it.
Still, I showed up for my next match… but had to stop mid-way.
I was running on fumes. The tank had been empty for a while.
Looking back, what can I say?
I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t honor the tournament with the dedication it deserved.
And yet, somehow, I walked away with a 3.2.
Call it luck.
Call it grace.
Call it the stubborn magic of this sport that sometimes gives an unexpected prize.
Warning:
No moral here.
No big insight. Just a simple truth:
Being unprepared is never a great idea.
But I’ll take the gift. I’ll take the 3.2.
I believe that even luck is something we earn over time.
Not in the week of the tournament.
But in the long haul.
In the hours we’ve poured into this game.
Even when we’ve stepped away.
Even when no one’s watching.
So yeah… thank you, tennis, for my earned luck.
Let’s see what I can do next time, with a little more intention and a little less Goulash.
See you on court.
