I Never Had A Fair Chance
Earlier I mentioned that I had my highest high on a baseball diamond. I guess you can file this post under the lowest of the lows. I’ll never forget this day— and the lessons I learned.
I was introduced to tennis when I was six years old. My older sisters were starting to take it pretty seriously, and that got me started. It was a new challenge. The synergies were amazing. I was a pitcher and a center fielder. Pitching helped my serve, and serving helped my pitching. To this day, I can still throw a baseball in the low 80s, and rip a 125mph serve down the T. The game just came natural. All of the Stein children are extremely talented.
I didn’t start playing tournaments until I was 10. Like baseball, I’ve had some pretty good highs. One year, I tore a growth plate in my shoulder, sat out for 6 months, and won my first tournament back. It felt great. Come to think of it, all of my wins felt great. I’ll never lose my enthusiasm for winning.
My junior year in high school was my year, just like it was when we were 8 years old. Going into that season I knew I was going to win the high school state championship. I wanted it, badly. There was also a sweet little bonus associated with a state championship. Sibling bragging rights. My sisters never won a title. They each have a 2nd place finish (I think im leaving something out, Amy may have had 2).
I had a decent high school season. The regular season is generally a waste, and I sat almost half of the matches. It’s really all about states. My doubles partner and I breezed through sectionals and districts to qualify. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. We were going to win. I don’t think anyone was betting against us, either.
Our first round match was dirty, just as we expected it to be. Tennis isn’t exactly the gentlemans sport everyone makes it out to be. The opposing coach did some questionable things, and the players followed along. We weren’t exactly on our best behavior either; we played the standard head games.
In the second set, at 6-5, deuce, my whole world fell apart. They hit a serve down the T, and both of us called it out. The line judge immediately overruled the call. He was wrong. The ball was out by 4 inches. I was standing a foot away. I had the best view. The next thing I knew, my partner was yelling at the line judge. The line that did us in was, “are you blind? get some fucking glasses. expletive, expletive, expletive.” We went through the entire point penalty system in a matter of 15 seconds. We were defaulted. I stood in shock. Everything I had worked towards in the past 11 years was taken away from me.
I’ve never been more embarrassed. Getting thrown out of the state championship in front of hundreds of people and dozens of college coaches was a nightmare. Junior year is the most important recruiting year. I felt sick. As I was walking off the court, the coach from the other team told me that he had, “lost all respect for me as a tennis player.” That was pretty appalling. I’ve never heard a coach say something like that.
That coach had the sense to track me down later that day. He apologized said it was a “heat of the moment” type of thing, and that I handled the situation well. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t speak another word for the rest of the weekend.
I took my standard two week break, and I was pretty sure that I never wanted to play the game again. I knew I was going to get burned out some day— but I always wanted to leave the game on my own terms. During my time off, I entered the Midwest Open, which was being hosted in Chicago. It was scheduled to start at the end of July which gave me over two months to get ready.
In early June, I began playing daily. I ended up playing a semi-pro doubles tournament mid July, and then left for Chicago. It was a tough tournament. 4/5 matches that I played went three sets. I ended up losing in the round of 16. That sucked. I should have won that match. I won the first set 7-6, was up 3-0 in the second and we were moved indoors due to darkness. 2 hours later, around 11pm we started playing again. The break killed me. I’m not the only one who was affected by the poor schedule (who starts a match at 7 at night?). The USTA stripped Chicago of the tournament.
On my way home, I realized I was really mad about losing that match. I wanted to compete. I wanted to win. I wanted to improve. Nothing else really mattered.
I learned that I have an ability to eliminate outside interferences. States was on my mind the whole week, except when I was on court. When I was out there, I knew what I had to do: win. If I have a job to do— I’m going to get it done, no matter the circumstances.
I was able to thrive during a time where my world was completely crushed. It was as if nothing had happened at all.
I’d still give anything to change that moment.
I want to be the guy that takes the 3pt shot to win the game with no time on the clock… and not because i want to be the hero…
I’ll get another chance. Maybe not in tennis. Maybe not in sports. But, I will get another chance.
