Just Call Me Nadal

M and I have been playing tennis together for over three years now.  And by playing tennis, I mean that he hits the ball very softly towards me and I still sometimes miss it.  I admit it.  Tennis isn't my best game.  But I love playing it, love being outside and am glad it makes him happy to play, too.

And I'm getting better!  He's started doing his little spin ball move on me and he legitimately has to run after quite a few of my shots (I'm learning ball placement.  Finally.)  Granted, I'm the one doing the most running, but hey, I need the exercise.

With a forecast of partly sunny and 85, M and I headed out to the University tennis courts again today, having been shut down yesterday when they were all full.  Despite no room yesterday, we were able to play in our own little cage today so I didn't have to worry about hitting other people with our balls (I have no idea what this layout is called, but there are two courts in each "cage," ie, there was no one on the other court).  

And then, about five games in, the clouds parted, a bright ray of sun appeared on me and...I WON A GAME AGAINST M FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I don't remember what the score of the game was, but what matters is that I BEAT HIS ARSE.  WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!  Rafael Nadal, watch out.  This Hyde Park Hero is comin' to get ya.

(Now is probably the point where I should mention that M then went on to beat me soundly for the rest of the day.)