Over the Net

 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