I have to admit I have done very little writing this week— mostly because of Wimbledon. Every year, it is like the world stops and all I do is watch tennis. I fell in love with tennis as a little girl watching real women play the game. Used to watching men’s sports with my dad, I could not believe there was a sport that women played—it was actually shown on TV! As I learned the game, I came to adore the smell of a newly opened can of tennis balls, and the “whack” of the ball hitting the racket dead center.
I have seen many a star in the sport from the clay courts of Indianapolis to the hard courts of Orlando, to the grass of Wimbledon…Laver, Evert, Goolagong, Austin, Martina, McEnroe, Venus and Serena…I have seen them all. Even though I can no longer swing a racket, and my knees refuse to bend or run. I still watch with wonder at the grace, the strength, and the eye-hand coordination that it takes to time the racket hitting that little ball. So today I am sharing two poems I wrote for the players that I enjoyed watching at Wimbledon this year. I hope you got a chance to enjoy their performances too.
Ode to the Men’s Wimbledon Champion 
There once was a tennis player named Djokovic.
Whose serve came off his racket like a dynamite stick.
His backhand was blistering.
His forehand never went missing.
So good he won Wimbledon, The Championship.
Ode to Serena 
Tennis is white
Serena is black
She hits a ball with all her might
And no one can hit it back.
Her courage is undaunted,
To net, she grandly rushes.
Sometimes forty-love is granted:
Sometimes, at mistakes, she blushes.
She hits the ball with all her heart.
Even though a new mother,
Perfecting shots so smart,
Defeating opponents one after another.
She will always be known as a Champion,
Because she stands on her past.
No matter what the axiom,
She’ll never be out-classed.
So here’s to Serena!
The Champion extraordinaire
Of the tennis arena.
May she reign with joy everywhere.
Chasing The Tale 