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Tennis, A Game Of Competition And Connection (6m read)

This piece was inspired by the French Open’s tribute to the great Rafa Nadal, rightfully crowned “The King of Clay” after 14 historic titles. Thank you, Rafa, for embodying the relentless heart of a true warrior.

You know what I love about tennis? Every shot makes someone happy. ~Dan Millman, “The Way Of The Peaceful Warrior”

Whenever there is talk of tennis, the inevitable invite to go hit comes up. I’m always hesitant because I know that finding a good compatible hitting partner is challenging. Skill levels need to be similar.¹ Intentions aligned.

Some folks just want to mess around. Others turn every rally into rage therapy. Then there are those chasing their old glory days, wanting to play competitively to feel relevant.

My ideal partner is someone skilled, who’s there to enjoy a shared experience where both people feel fulfilled and elevated. Someone who understands that competition doesn’t need to be a zero sum game. Where winning isn’t the goal. Where, regardless of outcome, both can walk away feeling awe and gratitude.

It may sound like dating, but over the years, I’ve come to see tennis as a framework for creating deeper connections: attunement, alignment, discernment, presence, otherness, respect, and of course honesty.

Baseline Brotherly Bonds

“I quit,” I told my tennis coach just before the start of senior year in high school. While he tried to talk me out of my decision the only voice I heard was the chattering in my ear “this stupid country club sport with it’s collared shirts, high shorts, white sneakers is for nerds.

The sport demanded grueling long hours in the sun away from my beloved beach, intense focus, and emotional restraint. I wanted freedom.

I saw myself, or wanted to be seen by my peers, more as a surfer, chasing waves with friends, untethered and carefree, too rebellious for routines, too cool for the courts and too restless for the honor roll.

Growing up playing tennis, I struggled to contain the constant self-critical chatter in my head. My monkey mind could never get out of overdrive. Negative thoughts fueled volatile emotions. It always felt like I was trapped in a high-stakes pressure cooker. Having only ever played singles, I often felt ungrounded, de-centered, and deeply alone.

I’d try to hit big, aggressive forehands to blow my opponents off the court, just like my idol, Andre Agassi. At the time, I wasn’t fully aware of it, but deep down, I knew it was a self-sabotaging bailout strategy to escape the court as quickly as possible.

Two years into college, I received a call from my dad. My younger brother, Scott, now a high school senior, had become captain of the varsity tennis team. My Dad spoke with pride, describing Scott’s relentless defensive style—how he chased down every ball and outlasted opponents through sheer determination.

On a holiday break from college, I went to watch one of his matches and saw it unfold like a slow, methodical masterpiece. Scott faced a top-seeded player who was more physically gifted, yet point by point, my brother’s unyielding persistence broke him down.

Never before had I witnessed such an unbreakable will, so alive with purpose, so full of quiet fire. Least of all in my younger brother. Whether he was winning or losing he walked with purpose, commitment and unrelenting focus.

When I came home that summer, we started hitting together. I was struck by how mentally tough my little brother had become, unflappable and locked in, Nadalesque. Our long rallies became something I looked forward to, a chance to lose myself in the rhythm of the game. It felt less like competition and more like a dance, where we elevated each other, growing stronger with every shot.

My little brother gave me a gift I’ll carry forever: a lesson in connection — one that has left a lasting imprint on my heart and life.

hitting with my brother at Newport Beach West courts

“Playing For Love”

In those rallies with my brother, I stumbled into something spiritual, releasing the urge to control the result, staying with the next shot, feeling the clean contact, the quiet rhythm of movement. In that back-and-forth interdependent dance, I finally understood what all my coaches growing up meant by “focus.” They were pointing to something deeper: the quiet force of presence —letting go, accepting whatever outcome, trusting the work and enjoying the privilege of playing the game.

I fell in love with tennis, the game itself, and the allegory it offered for life.

Armed with this newfound understanding of the game, of mind and heart entwined, I began to see competitive tennis in a whole new light, noticing subtleties I’d never appreciated before.

Tennis stopped being a contest of dominance and became something deeper, a pursuit of transcendent exchanges. I no longer saw the person on the other side of the net as an opponent, but as a partner, a teacher, and a kindred spirit.

Winning points, sets and matches still mattered, but I found greater joy in matches where both my hitting partner and myself were locked into rhythm, elevating each other with every shot. I no longer needed to win to feel good. I might want to win a long rally, yet lose, and still want to hug them afterwards, grateful for the shared special moment.

I embraced the beauty of the battle and the shared experience we co-created together.

Hitting with my friend Thibaud in San Diego

Beyond its numerical value, "love" embodies the heart and soul of tennis. It's a testament to the players' unwavering passion for the game, echoing the historical practice of playing "for love," purely for the joy of competition. This term resonates deeply within the tennis community, reminding everyone of the shared passion and dedication that fuels the sport.²

Tennis, to me, is no mere game. It is a sacred dance of connection. Two souls, separated by a net, each fluent in their own rhythm, attuning, not to dominate or win, but to awaken the unbridled brilliance in the other. Tennis, in its purest and most transcendent expression, is love flourishing.

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Appendix

¹Skill level: I’m somewhere between a 3.5 and 4 rating.

²Love in Tennis: Understanding the Zero Score and Its Origins, Alex Sanchez-Axline, May 2024