Match Point Nerves: It’s Not Courage, It’s the Other 5
It’s 10-9, match point. Your opponent’s serve slices through the air, a blur. Your heart feels like a drum solo, thudding against your ribs. Your racket arm, usually an extension of your will, feels suddenly alien, heavy. Should you push it safe, aim for the baseline, or go for the audacious, cross-court winner you’ve practiced a thousand times? The microseconds stretch into an eternity of indecision, a paralysis of options. The ball bounces, then again. Your hands, betrayed by some internal tremor, push the return weakly. It barely clears the net, floating like a prayer, only to die on the tape. Match over. Another loss to yourself, to the phantom of the “big moment.”
The Pattern of Practice
I once spent an afternoon – what felt like 235 minutes, probably closer to 45 – with Logan A.J. The man’s an insurance fraud investigator, and he doesn’t believe in magic






