So, I’d been trying to get into tennis, right? Signed up for a few lessons at the local club. All very proper. You know, hold the racket just so, swing like this, don’t do that. Honestly, it felt a bit stiff. I was spending more time worrying about if my form was perfect than actually hitting the ball.
Then I bumped into this fella, Aney, down at the park. He was just whacking balls against a wall, but with this massive grin. I got chatting, and he mentioned his way of playing – what his mates jokingly called “Aney Tennis.” He said, “Forget all that textbook stuff for a bit, just come hit some balls.” I was a bit hesitant, thought it looked a bit… well, chaotic.
My First Taste of “Aney Tennis”
I showed up next Saturday. And boy, was it different. Here’s what I noticed straight away:
- No one cared about fancy gear. Old rackets, comfy shoes, that was it.
- The “rules” were more like guidelines. The main rule was: try to get the ball over the net, and have fun.
- Aney’s coaching was… unconventional. He’d shout things like, “Just smack it!” or “Feel the ball, don’t think about it!”
At first, I was all over the place. My “proper” training was messing me up. I kept trying to remember the footwork, the follow-through. Aney just laughed and said, “You’re thinking too much! This ain’t Wimbledon, mate!” He was right. I was trying to apply this rigid system to something that was meant to be fluid.
So, I decided to just let go. I started just focusing on hitting the ball. My shots were wild, I missed loads, but then, something clicked. I hit this one shot, not pretty, but it went over, and it felt good. Really good. Aney gave me a thumbs up. We played for a couple of hours, mostly laughing at our own mistakes. I was sweating, tired, but I hadn’t felt that relaxed playing a sport in ages.
What I Took Away
It got me thinking, this “Aney Tennis” thing. It wasn’t about becoming a pro. It was about finding a way to enjoy the game, my own way. It reminded me of when I tried to assemble some flat-pack furniture. The instructions were a nightmare, pages and pages of diagrams that made no sense. I struggled for hours, getting more and more frustrated. Eventually, I tossed the manual aside and just looked at the pieces, thought about how they should fit logically. And you know what? I got it done. Way faster too.
Sometimes, I reckon, we get too caught up in the “right” way to do things. The official method, the expert opinion. But “Aney Tennis” showed me that sometimes, the best way is the way that works for you, the one that lets you actually do the thing instead of just worrying about doing it perfectly. It’s not always about the perfect technique, but about the doing, and finding a bit of joy in it, even if it’s a bit messy. I still go play “Aney Tennis” now and then. My form is still terrible by textbook standards, but I can hit the ball, and I actually look forward to it. That’s a win in my book.
