So, I’d been hearing these murmurs around the club, you know, about “L Tessa Tennis.” Sounds a bit posh, doesn’t it? My mate Dave, who usually couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, suddenly started playing these tricky shots. He just smirked and said, “L Tessa, mate. Changed my game.” My game was pretty much stuck in the mud, especially my backhand, which was more of a prayer than a shot. So, I thought, why not give this L Tessa thing a go?
Finding L Tessa
Turns out, L Tessa wasn’t some new fancy racket or an online course. Nope. L Tessa was an actual person. An older lady, probably in her late sixties, with a surprisingly firm handshake. She ran these small, very specific sessions on a slightly rundown court at the edge of town. I was a bit skeptical, to be honest. The whole setup felt a bit… unconventional. But Dave swore by her, and I was desperate.
The First Shock
My first session was, well, an experience. I expected drills, maybe some technical pointers. What I got was something else entirely. First, she had me just walking around the court, feeling the ground with my bare feet. Bare feet! On a tennis court! Then, she spent a good twenty minutes talking about “breathing with the racket.” I kid you not. I was trying hard not to just walk out. I thought, this is completely nuts. I’m here to hit balls, not to meditate with my Wilson.
The Weird “Practice”
Then the actual “tennis” part started. If you could call it that. The L Tessa method, as I quickly learned, was all about bizarre exercises. Here’s a taste of what I went through:
- One-Legged Volleys: Trying to hit volleys while standing on one leg. Supposedly for balance. I mostly just hopped around like an injured bird.
- The “Feather” Serve: She wanted me to serve with the absolute minimum effort, focusing on placement and spin so light the ball would “float like a feather.” My serves usually have the subtlety of a sledgehammer, so this was torture.
- Blindfolded Groundstrokes: Yes, you read that right. Hitting (or trying to hit) groundstrokes with a light blindfold on, to “feel” the ball and the swing. I think I spent more time hunting for lost balls than hitting anything.
- Racket Balancing: She’d have me try to balance the racket on my finger, then on my head, while doing slow-motion swing patterns. I felt like a circus act.
I went home that first day thinking I’d wasted my money. My body ached in places I didn’t know could ache, mostly from trying not to fall over.
Sticking With It (Sort Of)
For weeks, I felt like a complete fool. My regular game, whatever was left of it, completely fell apart. I was shanking shots, missing easy volleys, and my serve was all over the place. My hitting partners started giving me these pitying looks. I complained to L Tessa, told her this wasn’t working. She just smiled calmly and said, “Patience. You’re unlearning bad habits. It gets worse before it gets better.” Easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one looking like an amateur out there.
There were many, many times I wanted to quit. I’d show up, do the weird drills, feel frustrated, and then go home and question my sanity. The “feather serve” was particularly demoralizing. Most of them barely cleared the net, if they even made it that far.
Any Improvement? Well…
So, did L Tessa Tennis magically transform me into a pro? Absolutely not. Let’s be real. I still shank shots. I still get frustrated. But, and this is a hesitant ‘but,’ some things did change, very slowly. That ridiculous one-legged volley drill? My balance at the net is, dare I say, a tiny bit better. I’m not lunging as much. And the “feather serve,” after weeks of what felt like pure humiliation, actually forced me to think about spin and placement in a way I never had before. My serve isn’t a cannon, but I can now occasionally sneak in a tricky one that catches people off guard.
My backhand, the reason I went in the first place? It’s still not a weapon. But it’s less of a liability. I can get it back in play more consistently, which is something. I think all that “feeling the ball” stuff, as daft as it sounded, maybe made me a bit more aware of my contact point.
So, L Tessa Tennis. It’s not a quick fix. It’s weird, it’s frustrating, and you’ll probably feel like an idiot half the time. But hidden in all that unconventional stuff, there might be a tiny nugget or two that actually helps. Or maybe I just got used to feeling foolish. Either way, my game isn’t magically fixed, but it’s… different. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit less stuck in the mud. Still wouldn’t recommend the blindfolded hitting though, unless you own a lot of tennis balls.
