Gimcheon-si, South Korea – For those of you following my professional stories, I’m currently playing ITF Futures events in South Korea. The small town of Gimcheon has played host to a few tournaments the past few weeks and I joined up during the third week to try get more of those precious ATP computer ranking points. It has been absolute hell at times and here is an unfiltered account of the past seven days of my life.
I arrived in Daegu, South Korea on June 14th via an overnight flight from Singapore with an added four hour layover in Shanghai just to make sure my travel time was over 11 hours. Arriving midday, I managed to catch a glance of my face in a restroom mirror. Not a pretty sight. But oh well, I was here to grind out some matches, and looking good isn’t part of a formula for that success. Little did I know things would go from ugly to worse.
I made it to a nearby train station with no problems. Managed to buy a ticket that I could not read but said “GIMCHEON” on it so I figured I was going in the right direction. The only other numbers I saw were “6″ and “12:37″. Thus I went to track 6 and boarded my 12:37 train. It was absolutely packed with people, with barely any seats open, and scarce standing room. I was already an oddball for being a foreigner but with my 35 kilos of luggage, it was a tall order just getting up the gangway and into one of the cars. So I managed to squeeze into a seat, smacking a dude in the face with my tennis bag straps, bowing profusely and apologizing. He didn’t seem to mind and asked if I was American. Sure, why not. He tells me his name and says he’s an English teacher. I’m sure he was a substitute. Anyway, turns out he’s from Gimcheon! I’m like sweet, he can be a vital contact if I ever have questions! And once he learned I was trying to get there to play tournaments he laughed and said the train we were currently on was headed in completely the opposite direction. Sigh.
It took 45 minutes to get to the next high speed station. From there I boarded a “normal” train and made an hour and thirty minute trudge back where I came from and to Gimcheon just in time for qualifying sign in. I managed to hit some balls with some kid on my sore ankle and realized that after all this traveling and sitting, a recovering sprained ankle that hasn’t been elevated at all is not the best thing to try to practice on. I checked into a “love” motel because of the budget price and walking distance to the site. The official hotel was over 12km away. I struggled to find food, the menus here don’t have pictures and not many in this small town speak anything remotely English. I was getting burned over and over by spicy dishes galore. I even managed to find spaghetti with chicken and red sauce. And it was the hottest thing I’ve eaten so far. I’m thinking to myself, what the heck is going on? Anyway, it didn’t have a good effect on my body and gave me the runs for four days. Try serving for a match after three hours when your stomach is ready to let everything go if you happen to take your foot off the pedal.
It wasn’t all bad. The little Thai I learned helped me become friends with the players from Thailand who were here playing who I had seen in Bangkok a few weeks ago. It’s amazing how people respond to you when you speak their native tongue. The little Spanish I know after spending a month in Barcelona helped me become really good friends with the #1 seed, a Spaniard by the name of Enrique. He just beat Yen-Hsun Lu a few weeks ago at a Challenger and has helped me find some sanity despite all the lousy play I’ve been going through. Oh yeah, he’s also friends with one of my coaches/mentors, Juan Viloca. This was only natural because all Spaniards seem to know each other. If you see some of my past articles, you’ll notice Viloca is well-known by all.
So back to the tennis – I taped up the injured ankle and faced a gauntlet of players in the qualifying. The courts are slow and high bouncing. The weather is 30-34 degrees Celcius, which isn’t bad for me considering I came from Thailand, Guam, and Singapore where it is much hotter. Remember when I said things went from ugly to worse? I don’t think Brad Gilbert has a word for the kind of ugly I played. I could not hit a single backhand in the court. Each one would topspin feebly, almost crawling like a grandpa, into the net. I was frustrated and forced to run around like a chicken with its head cut off. Luckily all of my opponents in qualifying couldn’t withstand the heat. But with each match I played, I found myself down a set or double breaks, and unable to time anythings. It was annoying tennis, high floaty spiny balls with no pace. And here I was used to fast courts with players who like to hit big and often. It wasn’t a good mix. After two right handed opponents, who loved to just lob my backhand all day until they cramped up, I faced the worst match up, a lefty who liked to just run all day and lob to my backhand. Great…
It was brutally hot and humid. During my moments of fatigue, I would come to epiphanies or realizations. Here I was, completely destroying my body, running around with absolutely no skill, and merely surviving off determination. It was then that I realized, if you are going to be doing this, win or lose, you have to enjoy this kind of pain. You have to enjoy the struggle. I started smiling out of no where, faking it until it kicked in and became second nature. I relished the long rallies, I loved seeing my opponent sliding all over the court trying to retrieve my shots. My legs burned something fierce but I was able to relax it all away with my smile. People watching probably thought I was crazy. Oh well, they weren’t qualifying with a sprained ankle and no sense of timing on these courts.
Main draw brought with it many nerves. I faced another Korean who had also qualified. Yet this time fortune or fate or luck, whatever you want to call it, favored me for once. He was a thin right hander with a one handed backhand and I was ready to run him ragged. I had lost the past four main draw matches I had played, I didn’t want to make it five. As we engaged in a few long rallies, the heat visibly affected him, and I enjoyed running his ass into the ground. It was ugly, it was long, people in the crowd got a kick out of a 100-ball rally we endured (I ended up missing a sitter forehand down the line while standing at the service line to lose the point). But after that rally, my opponent was spent, he double faulted the next point, shanked a backhand, then double faulted the first set to me. I lost the battle but won the war. I came to another realization while I won another ATP point:
It’s these perceived matches of importance that we (tennis players) win that give us a heightened ability to feel, adapt, and learn. Music sounds better. Food tastes better. The air is cleaner in our lungs. I’m sure sex probably feels better. Even your aches and pains disappear. It’s just unfortunate it has to come at the expense of someone’s self worth.
As I cut the blood out from under my toenails on three of my toes, emptied blisters, and managed my ankle, I found peace of mind preparing for another battle to try reach my first quarterfinal. I decided that I was just going to go for it and forget the consequences. I have to keep putting myself in these positions and eventually the coin will turn up in my favor. I rolled through the first set against the #3 seed in the second round. Things were easier, the serve was popping, and my shots were crisp. But this being my fifth match in a row, and only his second after an easy first round win, I was simply not fit enough to sustain the level. He bullied me around the court to go up 5-2 in the second set. Nobody said it would be easy, or else everyone would be doing it, right? I brought out my smile “tactic”. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. My smile worked it’s magic as I broke to get back on serve 4-5. I will regret not being in better shape because I probably would’ve been able to put away an overhead that would’ve propeled me to 5-all and a chance to win. But I was unable to put the overhead away and ended up losing a crucial point as my opponent returned my overhead with a casual forehand slice that clipped the tape and dribbled over. From there I was again bullied throughout the third set, dropping it and the match. I was furious with myself and at times found myself cursing his camp and the people around for clapping during my unforced errors. I knew then that I was done mentally and physically and the only thing you should really do at that point is acknowledge your opponent’s good play and move onto the next match and your preparation.
I really wish i could have pushed through my fatigue in that second round match but I’m not experienced enough to do that yet, maybe next week. I’ll lick my wounds, try to heal up, and begin the whole process in about a day and half when I have play another first round qualifying match. One thing is for sure, getting back into the ATP computer rankings for another year is nice but I’m not satisfied with it.
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The Gauntlet in Gimcheon, South Korea |
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