It was a hot afternoon in early June, 1978. Mark Tapp (age 7) arrived for his first tennis lesson at The Jewish Community Center in Denver. He wore a floppy white hat and his doting mom had covered him with sun tan lotion.
His very young coach wore a stylish Afro and could tell immediately that the youngster was only there at the behest of his mom. For the final thirty minutes of his hour lesson, Mark learned how to serve.
He had a good throwing motion but his toss was very erratic and far too high. His coach thought a creative image might solve his tossing woes. I said, ‘Mark….if you found an injured bird and nursed it back to health, would you release it with a mighty heave to the sky, or would you gently set it free like a balloon slowly rising above?’
He thought for a moment and then said ‘I’d release it as soft as that balloon……but then I’d just kill him when I hit it with the racquet.’
Mark is forty-four now and I hope he still plays tennis. Perhaps he has a young son who has his own floppy hat and a better toss than his dad.
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