Friends coming, friends leaving, relationships fraying and new ones made. All of this happened growing up at Woodbury Way. Woodbury Way was a place where the high tension wires crackled and the sweltering sun beat down upon me while I played the sport I loved. Woodbury Way is a public park where I grew up playing tennis since I was five years old, and it acted as my second home. Little did I know this would be the place where I would eventually fight a war with my best friend, Sam.

I met Sam when I first started playing tennis in the “little kids” group. Our coach saw our potential and was grooming us to be on the same competitive team. We always played against each other in “fun” matches that didn’t count for anything. One day when we were about thirteen, our coach put us in a “challenge match” to see who was better and to prepare us for future competition. I didn’t really want to play at first, because I knew that either outcome—winning or losing—would affect our relationship. But at the same time I wanted to win to prove to the coach that I was the better player. That night, I couldn’t think of anything but the match; I couldn’t stand the pressure, but I had no choice.

As I marched onto the court with my mighty weapon of choice, I had my mind on winning as I usually do and I thought my concerns were gone by the time I started warming up. We started the match but when I tried to hit the ball a raucous scream in my mind wanted me to miss and lose. I was hitting the ball tentatively without my usual confidence. Deep down I was torn between two choices: losing and still being good friends with Sam, or giving it all I could to win at any cost. Eventually this torturous match ended but not exactly the way I thought it would. I lost and walked to the net with my head down because I didn’t really want to look him in the eyes. I bordered on embarrassment and anger.

The match wasn’t the only thing I lost that day. Sam and I soon became competitors and our friendship crackled like the tension wires at the park. Exacerbating things, when the time came to join the high school varsity team, we were both freshmen but he attended the public high school and I went off to private school. My school did not have a tennis team. It was assumed that I would play on my town’s high school team. The coach who had trained me all those years, who was also the town’s high school coach, was informed two months before the season that the state rules changes and I would no longer be able to play the sport that I loved and trained hard for. My coach and I were both frustrated, and it was equally difficult for me because Sam made the team.

As I tried to overcome this hardship, I kept playing tennis and continued lessons with my coach. Soon, more opportunities came for playing other sports. I played junior varsity basketball freshman year, but I didn’t like it. The fall of sophomore year, I tried out for golf and was an alternate to the varsity team right away. I started playing baseball the following spring when I would usually play tennis. This year I play varsity golf and baseball. I don’t have the same passion for baseball or golf as I do tennis, but I enjoy playing both. The athletic director at my school said he was proud of how I bounced back from my disappointment and demonstrated resiliency.

I continue to play tennis every summer, and last summer I taught kids with Sam and our former coach. I still think of myself as a tennis player before any other sport and expect to play in some way at college. But most important, when I’m at Woodbury Way in the heat of the summer, I will remember what tennis has taught me about life.