“Did she have a shower before her first match?” Coach Dad asks.
“Thursday night before the Friday match?” I reply. Um…no. She had one on Wednesday. Why?”
“Don’t do it tonight, keep everything the same,” he continued.
“Are you kidding me? You’re superstitious?” He smiles and shrugs.
I know a thing or two about superstition. I’ve worked in or around professional sports for most of my career. In F1, IndyCar and NASCAR I’ve watched superstars get ready in exactly, down to the tiniest of tiny details, the same way week after week. No variation allowed. Clear the way if even what would seem the most insignificant detail to you and I, be out of place. The latest sponsor patch was sewn on with black thread rather than gray? The right glove was handed to him before the left? Oops, that is sooo not good and probably the reason he didn’t end up winning the race this week.
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We’re in the middle of a couple of big weekends here in Quebec. It’s the first round of tournaments for the Quebec 12-and-under championships. Last weekend was qualifying for the four spots available in the boys and girls main draw, and this coming weekend, the main draw itself.
It’s an emotional time for both the kids and their parents. Thankfully there’s a wall of glass separating the two, parents are relegated to watching and commenting on the action away from their children. I think that’s a good thing; parents talk in hushed whispers, mutter and comment to themselves, their spouses, grandparents and tennis friends, and occasionally lift a fist in solidarity to their child after a particularly impressive point. I noticed it was far quieter than I’ve been used to. Oh, and that I take crappy pictures through glass!
But what I want to talk about is something that I noticed more this past weekend, than anytime before. Probably because I wasn’t pulling my eyelashes out one-by-one or biting my tongue so hard that I was distracted from the pain of nerve-endings being severed.
What I noticed was the crying.
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“Did she have a shower before her first match?” Coach Dad asks. 
