There’s a saying in Spanish: La tercera es la vencida. Third time’s the charm.
Well… not this time.
Not even close.
Tavernola again.
And again, second round exit.
This place is starting to feel like one of those cursed video game levels, you know what to do, you’ve been here before, and yet somehow… game over.
Fast.
I wish I had deep tactical insights or dramatic moments to share, but truth be told, there’s not much to analyze this time.
The first match? Solid. I actually felt like a tennis player again.
Good footwork (yes!), nice timing, a few clean closing shots.
Played a 3.3 guy who’s clearly on his way to becoming 3.2, and I kept up.
Controlled the pace, didn’t panic, stayed aggressive when needed.
Scoreboard said it all: clean win.
And then came match two.
And with it, singhiozzo mode: three lethal minutes, then ten very average ones.
Over and over.
You know that frustrating feeling when you hit two or three great shots in a point… but never the fourth one you need to actually win it?
That was me. Always one shot short.
Always missing that last centavo para el peso.
But the worst part?
Ten killer points. Ten opportunities to flip the script. Zero conversions.
That’s not even bad luck, that’s mental static.
Disconnected. Period.
The loss was fair. No drama, no excuses.
The Match to Learn was Next Door
Funny thing?
The match that really stuck with me wasn’t even mine.
On the side court, I saw a mirror.
An over-55 player holding his own against a kid under 16.
Not dominating, not hitting fireworks, but fighting, point after point, with footwork, angles, and above all: defense.
The way he managed pressure by resetting the point with high lobs, gaining time, never rushing the impossible… it was inspiring.
That’s a craft I’ve ignored.
Defense. Patience. Geometry.
Not sexy, not flashy, but damn effective.
So I’m adding it to the list.
Alongside my serves, backhands, fitness, confidence…
Let’s add defensive intelligence. And time management on court.
You don’t always need to win fast, you just need to last longer than the storm.
Is Tavernola Cursed?
Hell Yes.
I think I need a break from it.
Is it bad luck? Is it my mind getting in the way?
Or have I just convinced myself I can’t perform well there?
Either way, I need to breathe somewhere else.
New courts, new air, new chances.
Let’s see how I respond without the shadow of Tavernola hanging over me.
I’ll be back, of course.
We always go back to our ghosts.
But for now, I’m taking my racket, my bruised ego, and my unfinished list of skills… somewhere else.
See you on the courts.
Il Tennista
