Alright, so someone asked about that Kozaki Tennis phase I went through. It’s kinda funny looking back, because it wasn’t some grand athletic pursuit, not really. It all started pretty randomly, to be honest.
How I Even Stumbled Into It
I remember I was in a bit of a slump, you know? Same old routine. I was looking for something, anything, a bit different to shake things up. I wasn’t thinking sports, not really. Then I saw this tiny, almost hidden notice at the local community hall. It just said “Kozaki Tennis – try something new!” No fancy graphics, nothing. Just plain text. My curiosity got the better of me, I guess. I thought, “Kozaki? Sounds… unique. What could it be?” I pictured some cool, underground Japanese tennis variant.
My First Go and Utter Confusion
So, I showed up. The ‘court’ was basically half a badminton court, and the ‘rackets’ were these stubby, wooden paddle-like things. Definitely not what I had in mind. And the balls! They were softer, kinda like those foam practice balls. There were only a couple of older guys there, super serious about it. They didn’t speak much English, and I sure don’t speak Japanese beyond “konnichiwa”.
My first attempt to play was, well, a comedy of errors. I kept trying to hit the ball like in regular tennis. Big swings, trying for power. The ball would just sort of… die on the paddle or fly off in a completely random direction. Those guys were just dinking it back and forth, super precise, barely moving. It was frustrating, man. I felt like a total klutz.
The “Practice Record” Phase
But I’m stubborn. I went back a few more times. I started to actually watch them, really watch them. It wasn’t about power at all. It was all about wrist movement, weird spins, and placing the ball in tiny, awkward spots. I started to make little mental notes, then actual notes in a little book I carried. My so-called “practice record” was mostly just doodles of ball trajectories and notes like:
- “Less arm, more wrist flick.”
- “Aim for the corners, short.”
- “Watch their feet, not just the paddle.”
- “Stop trying to smash it, idiot!” (Yeah, I wrote that to myself a lot.)
I’d go home and try to mimic the wrist actions with a TV remote. Sounds silly, I know. I’d practice my stance in front of a mirror. I was determined to at least not look like a complete beginner. I focused on just getting the ball back over the net, consistently. Forget about winning points; just returning it was a victory.
What I Figured Out (Sort Of)
After a few weeks of this, I got a bit better. I could hold a short rally. I even managed to win a point or two, mostly by sheer luck, I think. I realized “Kozaki Tennis” – or whatever these guys were actually calling their version of paddle tennis – was more like a chess match with paddles. It was super strategic, very subtle. It wasn’t about athletic prowess as much as it was about outthinking your opponent with placement and spin.
It was an interesting experience, that’s for sure. I never became good at it, not by a long shot. The language barrier was tough, and honestly, my regular tennis instincts kept trying to take over. But it did shake things up for me, just like I wanted. I learned that sometimes, the weird little detours are the ones you remember. I haven’t played Kozaki Tennis since that period, but I still have that little notebook. Every now and then I flip through it and have a chuckle.
