My mouth is dry and my lips are parched,
There is some light but it’s close to dark
Towards the end of the court, I march
I turn around when I reach my mark
The wind is out of my control
My only hope is that I will rock and roll
Across the court, I see a couple of large figures loom
That is where my opposition lurk
Scheming and plotting my very doom
God I wish I could wipe their smirks
Majestic a threat when the game is singles
Twice over it becomes as we play doubles
There is complete silence as I shout the score
So great the tension that has now built
Time to bring my focus to the fore
My hold on the racket resembles a sword hilt
No thought enters of something amiss
Getting this point my only wish
I toss the ball up, it begins my final act
My racket goes up, there sounds a twang
As my implement and the ball make contact
All they hear is a big loud bang
They miss the projectile, that's a point I get
A shot so fine, it was decided once the ball went over the net
Note: While I personally do not have this feeling of competitiveness when playing tennis, but it was easy to harness this feeling from my younger days
