Waitin', Hopin', & Wishin'

If you would have told me that on Saturday night of Labor Day weekend I would be sitting in a hotel with an 11 year old about to fall asleep at 8pm, I would have laughed in your face. My bets would have been on a casual bbq at Joe Landi's house followed by a booze filled night at Shoreclub. Half the crew would have been kicked out by now due to offensive one-liners to chicks while the rest of us would be victoriously holding red-bull vodka slushies and belting out in song. Memorial Day weekend and 4th of July weekend had similar scenarios so automatically Labor Day weekend should follow suit. Clearly, it is not.

Thus this means one of two things:
1. we are rapidly getting older and more lame
2.(my biggest fear) our group is divorcing

Recently, half of the boys dispersed to their respective ships which we knew would happen eventually. Other members have paired off with significant others...something that was bound to happen as well. You can only slut around PB for so long until it becomes tremendously exhausting forcing you to grab ahold of one fine lady.

For the past 8 months, I have considered the Navy boys to be my brothers; a family that exists away from home. In some respects, I am like a mother anxiously awaiting each of their returns.

So until they all return, I will wait. I will wait for my boys to come home safe and sound. I will wait for the next four day weekend. I will wait to make more memories with our PB family.

Just Call Me Coach

As I sit in the DoubleTree hotel in Carson, I am reminded of so many thoughts from my past. Many years have been spent in and out of hotels across the country; actually make that the world. The majority of those hotel stays relate to tennis.

Each year around this time I get a flood of emotions surrounding the everlasting sport of tennis. The nearest and dearest grandslam (U.S. Open) is going on right now. I once had a dream to compete in the tournament or at the very least be in the stands to cheer on a special someone.

Fast forward to the present and my reality is only a tad bit off. Although I am removed from the field of competition, I still take pride in cheering on those I care about. Thus, tomorrow will serve as a huge day in the life of tennis (for me).

Jesse Witten, former collegiate classmate and friend, will take on the #4 ranked player in the world, Novak Djokovik. To win three matches in qualies was a small victory in itself. To be competing in the 3rd round of a grandslam...that is priceless.

Mark, my tennis pupil, will compete in his first tournament being coached by me. It is his first time traveling without his parent(s) and his first big Cali tournie. The pressure is clearly on both of us.

When asked tonight which sport I like better, tennis or golf, I stated tennis because I am a better at it. But the truth of the matter is that the sport of tennis has been a constant in my life. Perhaps it has been the biggest constant throughout my 26 years. I have experienced much growth within the sport. I have depended on it during my lowest points. In many respects, it has become my good friend.

So as I lay my head to rest this evening, I will say one last prayer to the tennis gods and hope that my coaching abilities rise to the occasion...

Game. Set. Match.

I am tired. 5:45am wake up calls are few and far between for me. Generally, I do not welcome them into my life unless it involves travel. However, I do make an exception for the love of the game.

Tennis: A game played with rackets and a light ball by two players or two pairs of players on a rectangular court, as of grass, clay, or asphalt, divided by a net. Also called lawn tennis.

For me, it is a bittersweet passion that has influenced my life for nearly 14 years. It has been a bridge closing the gap of relationships between myself and two males (one boy, one man). Fitting to have it now impact my interaction with a child.

It has allowed me to travel the world, seeing things that I only dreamed of us a kid. It has brought sweat and tears to my heart and soul. It has created mental toughness. It has served me in my education as well as my career. It has been breathtaking and heart-wrenching at the same time.

My dad shed his first tear in my presence due to the game. I remember looking over and seeing a teardrop roll down his cheek. At first, I figured it was because we were rolling into the sweaty, pit of Macon, GA. Later I realized it had been a combo of the emotions of a proud father and the sincere lyrics of Butterfly Kisses. I still get chills thinking about it.

You see love is nothing in tennis, but in life it's everything.

California: We Keep It Rockin'

8th grade. The anchorwoman spoke, "Too Pack Shocker died today." Um excuse me Miss but it is Tupac Shakur, and he is a rap legend. The least you could do is pronounce his name correctly.

I mostly accredit the rapper for my slight obsession with the state of Cali, particularly the city of Los Angeles.

California Love and To Live & Die in L.A. have been two of my favorite songs since I was a little gangsta' back in the day. Without fail, each time I hear those songs, I roll down my windows, blare the radio and throw out the peace sign. Sometimes I even throw a little 'west coast' (much to Marquette's dismay as she favors the 'east' ).

Something in his jumbled words paints a picture of giant palm trees swaying next to the Pacific, the hills of Beverely, and that ever indisguisable Hollywood sign. And it never gets old.

As I drove along the PCH from Diego to L.A. yesterday, I was taken back to my gangsta' days and ways. Forced to roll down the windows and pour some out for my man 2PAC.

To live and die in LA, it's the place to be

You've got to be there to know it, what everybody wanna see

I'll Never Let Go

As I brainstormed last night on what to blog about today, my initial thought was to give a little shout out to my bff Kimmie Keebler and explain to the world how it is nearly impossible to stump her. She knows the answers and logic to a wide range of questions. Her most recently noted answer to my poundering question (how do girls manage to pee on the seat?) was profound.

But when I woke up, my thoughts leaned towards the euphoric dream which I had dreamt in the night. My intentions were set to speak of this very real yet subconscious scenario to which I awoke. However, as my morning has progressed, I can't help but express the immense emotions that I felt watching the interaction between parent and child today.

I have always known there to be an enlighting relationship between parent and child. Noteably there is a distinct relation between father and son. I have watched it for years between my own father and brother, and in the most recent of times, I have come to be ingauged in the relationship between my boss and his two sons.

And as I watched him with the two boys in their final hours together before he moves to the Middle East, I could not help but be taken aback and relish in the moment. The oldest playing the piano with such ease and grace as his father requests Minuet by Bach. He happily obliges and pours his soul into the piece.

The younger, nearly broke my heart with his last display of affection. When Rose whispers to Jack (Titanic) "I'll never let go," it seems rather cliche. Yet when the sweet young child held onto his father tightly in a bear-like hug and announced "I'll never let go," I couldn't help but see the beauty.

The art of parenting. The love in a child's words.