In the Winter the routine was simple but disciplined. My father would pick me up two hours earlier than the rest of the kids from school. I'd throw my school bag into the back of the SUV and swap it out for my tennis bag. Racquets, workout gear, a couple books, and a snack. We use to carb load in those days so most of the time it was a bagel. He'd give me a nod. I'd nod back. I've never been much of a talker. Always felt more comfortable listening to his wisdom, staring off into the snowfall, and thinking about the words.
On match days to calm my nerves I would visualize the court, my opponent, my strengths, his weaknesses. The match was already played in my head before even reaching the tennis club, which was one and a half hours away one way. On these trips sometimes tennis was the furthest thing from my mind. I was merely going through the motions. I would just stare at the sage green of my father's coat, an N-3B Snorkel Parka.
I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Sometimes I'd put it on at home when he wasn't looking. I think most kids do that. Play the omnipotent role of their father.
The soundtrack to those long drives was always Paul Simon. Man, I use to love putting those cassettes into the player at random and seeing what song would come on. I still get chills when I hear the music, those long drives through the upstate snowfall, the cold of day turning to night, the green of the courts and the protection of my sage in that classic parka.
Paul Simon - The Obvious Child
