So, I kept hearing whispers about this “Keegan Rice tennis” style. You know how it is, someone mentions something at the club, then you hear it again, and suddenly it sounds like the next big secret to unlocking your game. Figured, why not? I’ve been playing for donkey’s years, always open to trying something, even if it usually ends up being a load of hogwash.
I got myself down to the courts last Tuesday. Weather was decent, not too windy. Had a fresh can of balls. I was actually a bit excited, if I’m honest. Watched a grainy video someone shared – couldn’t really see much, but it looked like a lot of, well, energetic movement and some unconventional-looking swings. “Alright Keegan,” I thought, “let’s see what you’ve got for me.”
My Grand Experiment
So, I started trying to piece together what I thought this “Keegan Rice tennis” was all about. First off, the forehand. From what I gathered, it was supposed to be this super whippy thing, almost all wrist, generating tons of spin. I gave it a go. My first few attempts? One nearly took out a bird flying overhead, another dribbled pathetically into the net. My wrist felt like it was protesting with every swing. This wasn’t feeling natural at all.
Then I moved on to the serve. Apparently, it involved some kind of exaggerated coil and a really high toss. I tried coiling like a spring, tossed the ball up to the heavens, and pretty much launched myself at it. The result? A double fault, then another. My shoulder started to twinge. I felt like I was trying to impersonate a contortionist rather than play tennis.
I spent a good hour, maybe more, trying to force these movements. Hitting balls everywhere but where I wanted. I was getting frustrated, muttering to myself. My usual game, which isn’t pretty but at least gets the ball in, had completely deserted me. I was just flailing around, trying to copy something I barely understood from a blurry video and some locker-room talk.
Finally, I just stopped. Bent over, hands on my knees, just catching my breath. I looked at the scattered balls all over my side of the court and the few that actually made it over, nestled sadly near the opponent’s baseline like lost sheep. What a mess.
Back to Basics, Sort Of
It really got me thinking. We see these flashes, these new “methods” or “styles” named after someone, and we think, “That’s it! That’s the magic bullet!” But tennis, at its heart, is pretty simple, isn’t it? Get the ball over the net, and in the lines. Consistency beats flashy nonsense most days of the week.
I remembered when I first started playing. My coach back then, old Mr. Henderson, bless his cotton socks, he didn’t teach us any fancy “Keegan Rice” or “whatever-their-name-is” tennis. He taught us solid strokes. Forehand, backhand, serve. He made us hit hundreds, thousands of balls. “Get the fundamentals right,” he’d bellow, “and the rest will follow.” He wasn’t wrong, you know.
So, for the last part of my practice, I ditched the whole “Keegan Rice” experiment. I just went back to my own, slightly creaky, but familiar strokes. Hit some simple crosscourts. Practiced my slice serve, the one that doesn’t look like much but usually lands in. And you know what? It felt good. The ball started going where I aimed it. I wasn’t fighting my body anymore.
Maybe this Keegan Rice tennis works wonders for Keegan Rice. Maybe it works for some athletic young folks who can bend themselves into pretzels. But for me, at this stage? I think I’ll stick to what I know. It’s not about chasing every new trend that comes along. It’s about understanding your own game, your own body, and just trying to be a little bit better each day, your own way. That’s my takeaway from this little adventure. Wasted a bit of time, maybe strained a muscle or two, but hey, lesson learned, right?
