Preface
Saturday, March 8th, 2025 wasn’t about drills. It wasn’t about warmups or techniques in isolation. It was about immersion finding that rare space in a session where every shot has intention, where fatigue is ignored in service of rhythm, and where the act of hitting becomes the study. I’m documenting this not because it was “clean,” but because it revealed something useful: how intensity can teach, how partners elevate each other, and how hunger in training can surface what competition demands.
This is what it looked like when it clicked.
Part I: The Need to Hit
There’s a specific kind of hunger that doesn’t come from not playing—it comes from wanting to hit, even after you’ve already trained. That was the space I was in. After a really solid situational class, I felt an itch in my blood. Not ego. Not adrenaline. Just: Let’s go again.
I found myself obsessing over one thing my backhand speed-up drive. Lately, I’ve been working it until it felt like butter off the bounce. Whip it. Reset it. Disguise it. I’ve learned to generate speed from stillness. To move the paddle just enough but fast enough to force a mistake. And now I’m chasing the next step: Can someone send it back to me with equal force?
That’s when I hit with a younger player , maybe 3.2. I’ve helped her refine her two-hand speed-up. It’s sharp now. So sharp that, in rhythm, she hits one that moves me away from her on reflex. That’s the good stuff.
Part II: The Real Game Is Learning to Sustain Pressure
Let’s call it what it is: I wasn’t chasing winners. I was chasing something else.
I wanted to see if I could keep the ball alive not just to return it, but to stay in that space where I’m pushed. I wanted her to feel okay attacking me. I needed her to test my hands, test my strategy. When I tell her, “Come back at me,” I mean exactly that. Don’t avoid me, challenge me. Show me what you do when the middle is wide open. Trust the confrontation. That’s how you grow.
There’s something different about stressing a point without trying to finish it. It’s about rhythm management. Not rushing to end the point, but continuing the sequence—seeing how far we can extend high-quality ball exchanges.
This is how I define level-matching: high intent meeting high intent, but with mutual patience. You’re trying to win later, not now. You’re not looking for “the ball”—you’re trying to create it by pressing, retreating, resetting, and repeating. That’s the art.
Part III: The Spark of the Second Session
After she left, I was warmed up. Not just physically, mentally. My eyes were awake. My hands were awake. My intentions were aligned. That’s when I waved over another player 3.0 or 3.5 level, played a few tournaments at Lifetime. We exchanged a quick, unspoken nod.
And we just hit.
No talking. No explanations. Just silence and intention. We started cross-court, sliding, dinking, angling. We shifted into some straight-on volleys, and things started to move. It was natural. No words were needed. That’s when I knew we were locked into the same idea, let it unfold.
I started playing set-up-cat-mouse. Fake the attack. Pull the angle. Keep the paddle ready. He answered. I baited. He responded. But I kept my weight right, my breath slow, and waited for him to go wide. And when he did boom. I cut across the court and finished with purpose. Not reckless, just earned.
Part IV: Playing at Max Percentages, But Not Max Speed
Here’s the difference: We weren’t going full power every ball. But every ball had maximum meaning. We were hovering around 50%–75% tempo, but moving like it was a final. That’s the trick, right? Movement gives away your effort. And if you move like it matters, it matters. That’s how I knew we were dialed in.
He pulled me wide on several sequences, and I responded with forehand slices that stayed low and forced bad decisions. That slice it’s a dangerous ball. Take it too high, you pop it up. Don’t respect it, you lift it straight into trouble. He started to feel that tension, and I could tell he was learning in real time.
And I love that.
Part V: When It’s Just the Game, Not the Talk
There’s something deeply refreshing about not having to explain. About hitting with someone who doesn’t need coaching, just mutual elevation. That’s where real learning happens—when you both let the rhythm do the talking.
I found myself checking strategy mid-rally: “Could I ATP here? Yes. Should I? Nah. Go deep middle. Keep the sequence going.” And when I chose to switch the angle or fly across the court to punish, it was because I earned it not because I wanted to show off.
Even better, I felt physically strong. At one point, I slipped while covering a left side angle, foot planted wide but nothing hurt. No pain. No discomfort. Just: keep playing. That’s a silent win worth celebrating.
Part VI: Final Thoughts – The Joy of the Ball Coming Back
I keep thinking about how good it felt to know the ball was coming back. That what I was hitting wasn’t the end of the point. That someone was going to challenge me again. And again. And again.
That’s a rare gift in training.
I wish I saw more of it. Players who don’t default to the bailout lob, or tap-and-retreat safety. Players who bring it back with purpose. Who aim for the shoes, the chest, the gut. Who move the ball but keep you honest. Who show you what it means to stay in the pocket even if it means losing, even if it means stretching, even if it means breathing harder than you did the rep before.
That’s what makes it fun. That’s what makes it worth it.
Takeaways:
- Stress matters. Learn how to stress a point without rushing to win it.
- Train with purpose. Move at 60%, but with 100% presence.
- Return with intent. Don’t just survive rallies—elevate them.
- Choose silence. Some of the best sessions don’t need dialogue.
- Play to extend, not just to finish. This is how you build adaptability.
Closing Reflection
This wasn’t a tournament. It wasn’t even a “serious” training session. But it might’ve been one of the most valuable ones I’ve had lately. Because in those sequences in the silence, in the rhythm, in the breath between speed-ups,I saw it: the kind of player I want to be.
One who’s calm in the uncertainty.
One who plays the 20th ball and beyond.
One who sees training as a test worth passing again and again.
And man, I hope the ball keeps coming back.
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