Alright, so “singlet tennis.” What in the world is that supposed to be? Sounds like something someone cooked up after a few too many energy drinks, if you ask me.
You start hearing these terms, and you wonder if it’s some fancy new drill the pros are doing, or maybe it’s about finding the perfect aerodynamic singlet to shave milliseconds off your serve. Who knows, right?
But for me, when I hear “singlet tennis,” it’s a lot simpler. It’s just what happens when it’s absolutely scorching outside, and you’re trying to get a hit in without completely overheating. That’s the long and short of it.
So, I found myself out on the court the other day. Man, it was brutal. Sun just hammering down, you know? The kind of heat that makes the air wavy above the asphalt. And humid, too. Sticky. Awful.
I knew right away, no way I was wearing a regular t-shirt. Went straight for the old faithful: my thinnest, most worn-out singlet. Probably got it years ago, maybe it was even a freebie from some tournament. It’s seen better days, got a small pull here and there, but it’s light. That’s all that mattered.
Wasn’t about looking sharp. Heck no. It was purely about function. Trying to stay as cool as possible while still being decent enough to be on a tennis court. My main goal was just to get through an hour without feeling like I was going to keel over.
I didn’t even bother with anything too complicated. Just hit some balls. Stood at the baseline, worked on my forehand, trying to get some depth. Then switched to backhands, mostly crosscourt, trying to find that groove. You know, the basics. Just trying to feel the ball on the strings. No fancy footwork drills, no killer serve practice. Just rallying, me against the ball machine for a bit, then some self-feeding.
And the sweat. Oh boy. Within ten minutes, that singlet was soaked. Clinging to me. Not a pretty sight, I can tell you that. Every time I wiped my forehead, more sweat. It was one of those days where you just gotta embrace the grime, I guess.
It got me thinking, though, standing there, dripping. You see so many folks, especially at the clubs, they get so hung up on the gear. The latest $300 racket, shoes that look like they came from a spaceship, perfectly matched outfits. Everything pristine. They look the part, you know?
But then you watch them play. And sometimes, it’s just… well, it’s clear all that expensive stuff isn’t doing the heavy lifting. They’re spraying balls everywhere, serves are hitting the net, footwork’s all over the place. It’s not the clothes making the player, is it? Never has been.
I remember this one time, years ago, I played this younger guy in a local league match. He turned up looking like a pro. Head-to-toe in the latest brand, logos everywhere. I was in some old shorts and a faded t-shirt that definitely didn’t match. He probably spent more on his wristbands than I did on my whole outfit.
And for the first few games, maybe he even felt confident. But once the match got tight, once he had to really dig in and run, all that gear didn’t mean a thing. He started missing, got frustrated. Couldn’t handle the grind. I wasn’t playing spectacularly, just steady. Kept the ball in play. And he just sort of… wilted.
It’s like that with a lot of things, I find. People focus on the outside, the presentation. The easy bit. But the real stuff, the hard yards, the consistency, the just showing up and doing the work even when it’s uncomfortable – that’s what actually matters. That’s where the real improvement comes from, not from the tag on your shirt.
So, this “singlet tennis” thing. If it means anything, it means stripping away all the fluff. Getting down to the raw basics. Just you, the court, the ball, and a whole lot of effort. Doesn’t matter if you’re in a state-of-the-art performance top or an old, raggedy singlet. What matters is what you do when you’re out there.
Anyway, that was my session. Hot, sweaty, and a good reminder to just keep it simple. That singlet definitely earned its place in the laundry hamper, that’s for sure.
