Coach Colin Redux

Coach Colin Redux

I had an interesting experience yesterday. I arrived at the Biltmore tennis center for my daily practice and was confronted by a mob of high school students—not dressed in tennis gear. My first concern was whether this would interfere with my hitting session. As I parked my bicycle one of them, a boy, asked me if I was going to play tennis. Yes, I said. He then said he wanted to learn to play and would I help him. Sure, I replied, a little annoyed at having my own tennis interfered with. Instantly, a small crowd gathered, boys and girls, all eager to watch and be taught, about fifteen of them. Suddenly, I was placed in the teacher role. First, I gave them some verbal pointers, mainly about keeping the ball down; then I demonstrated, hitting the ball softly against the wall. They watched carefully, silently, then applauded, I’m not sure why. I commented on what they had seen and how I executed the stroke. Much bright-eyed nodding. Then I demonstrated some harder hitting to give them a sense of the real game—more applause (well-deserved, I thought). Then things got interesting: I asked for volunteers. First, a boy had a go—“Not terrible”, I remarked. They could all see how difficult it is to hit a tennis ball well, him especially. I coached him a bit. Then I took a second volunteer, making sure it was a girl (no sexist, me). She responded well to coaching and managed to hit the ball straight and fairly hard a couple of times—she was clearly thrilled. Then another girl stepped up, brimming with enthusiasm; but she kept missing the ball altogether and could hardly make it hit the wall when she did make contact. The kids were sympathetic and supportive. Suddenly, they announced they had to leave; their teacher beckoned. They were all smiles and thankyous. It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. I felt the joy of teaching again. I reflected: they knew nothing of me beyond what they picked up in those few minutes. Quite unlike what I would expect of a bunch of students being taught philosophy by me now. It was how things used to be. I carried on hitting.