Between Points
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“We will talk more between points”, my dad would say to me as a child every time we played tennis. I’m not sure if it was the grandeur of the club, my dad’s elegance in his Fila tracksuit, the green and red colors of the court, or simply knowing that we had this unmovable appointment, just the two of us, but Wednesdays became my favorite day.
The smell of new tennis balls after opening the can was magical. It automatically put us in competitive mode as we finished putting on our wristbands and caps. On the court, I ran from side to side, trying to win the point. An almost impossible task since my dad played strategically, analyzing the game and sharing his greatest tennis secrets with me, like his famous “drop shots” or that great one-handed backhand that distinguished him among his friends and coaches.
Between points, we would sit down to rest on the bench while my dad lit a cigarette. Yes, you heard right—a cigarette. Those were undoubtedly different times. However, the two or three puffs he took gifted me with the best conversations.
Between points, he gave me the best advice on how to talk to the boy I liked. Between points, he told me stories of when he worked with my grandfather. Between points, I shared that the boy was already my boyfriend and that I wanted him to meet him. Between points, he hugged me while I cried when I found out he was dating another girl. Between points, silence accompanied us. Between points, he told me how he was his grandmother Elisa’s favorite and remembered his childhood with nostalgia. Between points, I told him I missed him when he no longer lived at home. Between points, I told him I had found the love of my life. Between points, I said we wouldn’t live in Mexico. Between points, I surprised him with the news that he would be a grandfather. Between points, I began to notice him slowing down. Between points, I felt him drifting away.
Until one day, I knew it would be one of the last times we played. My dad is still alive, but he’s no longer himself. I miss sitting next to him.
Now, my partner between points is my youngest son. Many times, we sit in silence, but that doesn’t scare me. I learned that my dad respected my desire not to talk, knowing he just had to wait for the next point. It’s very special to occupy this side of the bench today. From here, I listen, support, and share, honoring that great teacher I had, where tennis was just one of the many things I learned.
