Watch out Roger

I went for my first tennis lesson with exactly the above in mind. I had always had a great fascination for the game and always wanted to learn it. But, tennis was never a game for the masses and I had to contend with watching the game closely over the last 17 years. So when on the way for my first shot, I was excited to say the least. For those who know me, my interest and enthusiasm for this would be evident from the fact that the classes are from 7:30 am for an hour, six days a week. Given the deadly combination of my sleeplessness and laziness - both certified as exceptional by all and sundry - accepting such a timing was in itself a stupendous effort from my side.

Anyways, with my Wilson in hand and a my gear on, I walked to the courts this Sunday morning. (Fortunately the place is just a 3 minute walk from where I live, and it'd give me an extra 30 precious minutes to sleep.) I learned the technical details of playing the forehand. I have an inner feeling that this would last for sometime and deepen my interest in the game.

After an hour, I was told that I did quite well for my first shots at the yellow ball. However, before you visualise me hitting ripping cross-court forehands from the baseline like one Andre Agassi, let me tell you that the title of this post is quite literal - with balls flying higher and further with each subsequent shot. One of them could have easily knocked him down - wherever he was lifting his latest trophy that day. :D