By Richard Pérez-Feria
I’m writing this on the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. This same June day has triggered many conflictive thoughts and tough decisions for me over the years starting way back in the summer before I entered high school as a tenth grader. As a gregarious Virgo kid (Beyoncé and I, naturally, share a September 4 birthday), I’d still be 14 years old when I stepped in to Southwest Miami Senior High School for the first time. And I knew before I took such a momentous step, I had a tough call to make. The issue? Tennis. Was I in or was I out?
At the age of ten (almost eight years too late by today’s standards), I picked up a tennis racquet and gravitated to the sport organically. What I lacked in natural athletic ability, I more than made up for with my eye-hand coordination and smarts. Simply put, I had a tennis “brain” and was constantly churning out solutions to on-court deficiencies and managed victories over otherwise more talented players. Former American tennis pro Brad Gilbert was known for “winning ugly,” though I’d like to think my version was a bit more aesthetically appealing, but maybe not. Winning was all that mattered.
By 12, I was pretty darn good and was the leader of my junior high school team—a squad that consisted of my closest friends: André Williams (our best player) was a Roger Federer-like smooth operator on court and brothers Gene and Steve Morris (both formidable in different ways, Gene, a year older, was a human backboard, Steve boasted a powerful serve-and-volley game). I was a mix of open-faced forehands, steady two-handed backhands and the dogged mental superiority I was already known for. Collectively we were, in a word, impressive.
Playing tennis in South Florida—unofficial global home to the sport itself, including American queen Chris Evert (her dad, Jimmy, was my sometime coach and dubbed me “Lead Foot” for my less than speedy retrieval ability)—was highly competitive with the best players scouted by elite tennis camps and pursued by corporate sponsors. And though I felt that I was a solid player—a former vanquished opponent’s dad referred to me as “Cuban Jimmy Connors”—was I good enough to make this far-fetched dream a reality? Could I make tennis my life?
I had never heard of summer solstice that June day before high school began when I crossed the street of my home to Miller Drive Park to sit on the playground’s swings alone with my thoughts as I imagined my day-to-day life without tennis. I must have sat there for more than four hours (my mom sent my brother to get me for dinner) and I was sad because I knew what I had to do. I was never going to be a professional tennis player. I was too short (5’9”), too slow and, frankly, too-not-rich enough to see if this was a viable option. So, I said goodbye to my truest love a few months after school started. I agreed to play in one last tournament with André, Gene and Steve and all of us were in tears as we rode the school bus home victorious. I remember smiling out the window of the bus thinking that at least I went out a winner. A nice memory to have.
Almost instantly, my life went in a million different directions at once (we all remember high school, yes?). I became the editor in chief of the award-winning newspaper, The Southwest Lancer, as well as Student Council Vice President. I was popular, respected and ambitious. Life was good. Nothing was going to stop me. Not even tennis.
Anyone who knows me understands my ongoing obsession with the sport exceeds even my unquestioned Swiftie cred. My decades of suffering, living-and-breathing hoping for Chris Evert, Rafa Nadal, Serena Williams and now Carlos Alcaraz and Coco Gauff to win every match has been as central to my core as are my politics (the not crazy party) and my Cuban heritage. Tennis, alas, is in my soul.
I currently live about two minutes equidistant from both Vassar College’s pristine hardcourts as well as the beautiful Poughkeepsie Tennis Club of which I recently became a member. Of course I did.
It’s summer—the season where love means nothing (in tennis) and everything (in life).
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