West Point, to thee
Gloria Son, Women's Tennis
I am shaking.
I am nervous.
I take a sip of water, trying to quench my dry throat.
The air in Lichtenberg Tennis Center is warm and quiet—too heavy for my current anxiety-ridden mind.
The people in the crowd intently stare at me and Kirby as if we are two rare species in a zoo. I can tell they are trying to send us good energy, or maybe even bad karma. The handful of parents who are still so inclined to watch their kids play in college are watching with critique and angst as they’ve done for so many years. Half of them are sporting Navy gear while the other half are rocking Army—quite literally a painting of black, gold, white, and blue. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Kirby’s parents, mostly her mom, Mrs. Einck. She has the look of the cliché “tennis parent”, standing ever-so confidently and proudly above the courts yet sporting a hint of the nervous jitters watching her daughter play an important match. Everyone is too tense, so I look away. In the moment, my mind is sharp, but my body seems eternities away. My racquet feels heavy too. At the bench, Coach M’s voice is distant. She’s telling us to:
“…hit it to their backhand…Glo, you need to step in and stick your volley…the darker hair is the weaker player…Kirby serve to…”.
In the end, it’s just a game, right? It’s just tennis?
The umpire calls: “TIME!”
I snap back and look Coach in her eyes. Despite not hearing a word she said, I knew exactly what she wanted us to do. In the end, it’s just a game, right? It’s just tennis? I flash a nod, trying to muster up a quick “ok, Coach” but instead, I am forced to swallow the saliva-build up in my mouth. Kirby and I bump one last fist pump with Coach M as we quickly scurry away from the player’s bench onto our side of the court. I remembered my younger years, loving the spotlight and hoping everyone would watch me play. But in this moment, I felt like throwing up instead. This was an important match and I didn’t want to let my coaches and my team down. And most of all, I didn’t want to let my doubles partner, Kirby, down.
It was our annual Army-Navy Star Match and Kirby and I were stuck in a 7-point tie-breaker for the doubles clinch point. A few of our coaches and the rest of our teammates were standing in a straight line on the court to our right, while Navy’s team stood on the court to our left. The umpire seated himself high up in his powerful referee throne near the net while the crowd stood immediately behind Kirby and I in the viewing area up top. It was so quiet inside the tennis center that you could hear the bouncing of the ball before each serve and the high-pitched squeak of tennis shoe rubber catching on the court during each movement.
However, the will and the desire to win is all too familiar for my competitive spirit. The environment may always change, but the sensation of winning and losing never will.
Knowing my teammates, they were definitely holding their breath. All the other doubles matches finished and our match at No. 2 doubles was the only one left. After every winning point, the energy and thunderous roar from Army fans could have been mistaken for young teenagers raving at a concert. It was electrifying. This wasn’t Kirby’s first rodeo—as a sophomore, she knew exactly what to expect and she was hungry for this win against Navy. While I on the other hand, was experiencing this rivalry for the first time. However, the will and the desire to win is all too familiar for my competitive spirit. The environment may always change, but the sensation of winning and losing never will.
Finally, in the last few points of the match, Kirby and I found ourselves ahead by one point in the tie-breaker. The ball came low and short to my backhand. Feeling so inclined to leave a lasting impression as a young freshman, I swung low and hard, aiming between the two Navy girls. I distinctly remember using the same footwork pattern that I have been taught as a child—the motion that came almost robotically to me. In the back of my mind, Coach Peck’s voice played like a tape recorder stuck on repeat: “down the middle, solves the riddle…down the middle, solves the riddle." The ball that I hit hovered so close to the top of the net but somehow, luck was on my side. It zoomed straight past our awe-struck opponents. And just like that, the momentum was on our side for the rest of the tie-breaker and we won match point!
This is when I realized that tennis truly is a sport for the adrenaline junky.
The energy from our team and the praise from the crowd felt like a drug. Kirby and I did it. This was what competing and winning felt like. Except this win surpassed any other win in my career because we won under the name Army, and we had something to win for—our team.
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This is one of the many memories that I will cherish forever. It not only paints my passion and love for competition and for the sport, but it also illustrates the importance of my team. So cheers!
To tennis:
Never once in these long years did I see myself without a tennis racquet in my left hand and a fuzzy yellow tennis ball in my right. To some, putting the two together might seem difficult, but to me, it felt fluid. At 8-years-old, I knew I wanted to follow in my brother’s footsteps and become a tennis star. Growing up, I was a quiet and shy young girl but this sport gave me the fire and competitive spirit I needed to develop my confidence. I sported sock tans up to the little bones on my ankles and flashed silly tank top tan lines that ran in every direction across my back. I established a burning passion for the sport and became both fearless and eager. I witnessed my peers competing for championship titles as if their life was on the line and their parents sat on the side of the court full of judgement and critique of their performance. To say my own father wasn’t doing the same would be a lie. To most, tennis may seem like a country club sport—one that only “gentlemen” play. But to my brothers and sisters who chose to play a sport that forces you to fight for nobody else but yourself… to those who understand that love means nothing, but rather, grit and fire is what it takes to work towards college recruitment or even further… and to those who understand what it means to set goals and to chase dreams… it is more than just a job. It is a passion.
For 14 years I knew how to carry myself with confidence and pride onto a court. And throughout these years, this sport has taught me how to carry myself with dignity and grace off the court.
To my team:
Coach Peck, Coach Martha, and Coach Alexis, you all were the bright light to my mundane, daily life as a cadet. Your support and encouragement are endless. The care you give for the girls and myself is what keeps our team’s bedrock strong. Thank you for being the motivation and the fire to keep us fighting both on and off the court!
Throughout the past 14 years of my tennis career I celebrated my own wins and berated myself over my own losses. More often than not, the outcome did not matter because the “who” I played for remained the same. Therefore, starting off my collegiate career beating Navy for our annual Army-Navy Star Match is a memory I will forever cherish because it is a moment that I realized this journey is far more meaningful with a team. I may have carried the same fire and burn for this sport as my childhood years, but the “who” I played for changed drastically because of you all! I am beyond grateful to have the responsibilities of a team captain and the privilege of being your teammate. The lessons I have learned being an upperclassman leader on this team are ones I will forever cherish and carry with me beyond the academy. You all taught me that as a leader, there is always more to learn than what you can provide. Thank you for always inspiring me to be better. You all are the heart and soul of Army Tennis and I am proud to be a part of this legacy. Although my tennis career may have ended unexpectedly, my fervor for the sport remains the same. Just like you, I will always stay hungry for another victory against Navy and our will to defend our Patriot-League Championship title. Yes, people come and go in our lives, but the Army family will never fade. I may have started this journey with tennis on my own, but I am beyond grateful to finish it with you, my team and family. Here we gooooo Black!
Until we hit again,
Glo
To read all of the letters in the West Point, to thee series, please click this link.