Seven months in, my first tournament
Doubles: Runner-up · Singles: Round Robin
Sumit and I made the doubles final and lost it 10-8 in a super tiebreak, and the next day I lost both my singles matches.
In February my own academy held the “Tennis Guide Annual Tennis Tournament”, and I entered it seven months after picking up a racket again.
I trained for two years as a child. Then I got interested in something else and didn’t play for a decade. In July 2025 I came back, abruptly, and far more seriously than was sensible, probably. Come February I was playing six mornings a week.
I had no real idea what I was doing. My work had been on depth, and on keeping my swing long right up to the ball. My court sense was a seven-month player’s, good enough to read a rally, but I couldn’t trust it once the score mattered.
I signed up anyway. Then I fell ill. A week in bed, a week getting back to normal, and then a single week to get ready, which I trained straight through.
Day one, doubles
Day one was open doubles, and I was playing with Sumit. It was on the same courts I’m on every morning. I knew the surface, but this was my first competitive match on it or on any other, so I had no idea what I’d do with a scoreboard, with an opponent who was obviously better than me and knew it, or with a net cord at 4-4.
The first match settled me. We won comfortably, and I came off thinking this wasn’t what the rest of the tournament was going to look like. We lost the second, and it was the most useful thing to happen all day. I didn’t play badly, I think. The other pair were just more coordinated than us, faster to the net and tighter in rallies, and I walked off trying to work out what had gone on out there.
We won the third, and we were in the semi-finals. The semi was easier than I expected, and the final went to a super tiebreak.
Most of the points before it are gone, but I remember the tiebreak. The score was all I could think about, and my muscle memory either held or it didn’t. It got to 8-8, and we lost 10-8.
We came second, and I went home with a trophy. I’m not bothered about trophies as a rule, but I have strong feelings about this one. It’s the first proof I’ve had that I belong in competitive tennis.
Day two, singles
Day two was open singles, and I was more tired than I thought I’d be. Seven months of early mornings had made me fit enough to train. A tournament day of doubles was another kind of effort, with a few seconds to catch my breath between points, concentration that never let up, and then the adrenaline from a final that close on top. I turned up with heavy legs, and no warm-up was going to sort them out. The singles was a round robin, and I lost both my matches.
I didn’t play well, and I wouldn’t have played well fresh either. My second serve was there to be attacked. When I was late moving for the return, the ball was on me before the racket was ready. In a rally nobody covered the gap I’d left, and every call was mine.
Then both my opponents came over after our matches. One said my ball was heavy for someone who’d been playing seven months. The other said I had a good eye. Both of them had just beaten me, so I really don’t know what to do with that. They were specific though, and I’m keeping both.
What I noticed
Seven months isn’t long, and I know where I stand next to people who’ve been playing for years. There’s a real gap between training and competing, and only some of it is technique. I had never tested what goes on in my head when the score counts. My sessions are hard and I spend them on things I find difficult, but a final against a stranger has stakes a session can’t give, and until I was in one I had no idea how I’d respond. The shots held up, the first serve was good enough and I didn’t fall apart at 8-8.
The consistency I’ve worked on is real, and it stands up in a match. There’s a lot of work left, and before the next tournament I have to take managing my energy seriously. I don’t have many shots yet, and I’m still learning to read what an opponent can and can’t do, then play to it.