By Drew Meyer, Men’s League Vice President
The Atlanta air crackles with anticipation as the ALTA Men’s League season approaches. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the inevitable onslaught of pollen and the unmistakable thwack of tennis balls echoing across the city can mean only one thing: it is springtime in Atlanta! And with spring comes the ALTA Men’s League. For those fortunate enough to be a part of this legendary institution, the wait is almost over.
The Men’s League is more than just a tennis league. It’s a social crucible, a battlefield of friendly rivalries, and a celebration of the spirit of the game. Picture this: Saturday mornings, the sun is a benevolent overlord, casting long shadows across the courts. You arrive, armed with your trusty racquet (and maybe a questionable fashion choice), ready to do battle. Your opponents? A motley crew of weekend warriors, competitive spirits, and the occasional “ringer” who mysteriously appears every other year. The banter begins before the first serve, a lively exchange of playful trash talk.
“Ready to get your game on?” one opponent challenges, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Bring it on,” you retort. “I’ve been practicing my ‘between-the-legs’ shot all week.”
The match begins with a blur of athleticism (or lack thereof), punctuated by grunts, groans, and the occasional “out!” shouted with varying degrees of conviction. The score fluctuates wildly, a testament to the unpredictable nature of both the game and the human condition.
But amidst the competitive fire, there is a unique spirit that permeates every ALTA match. It is a blend of sportsmanship and good-natured rivalry. You might argue a line call with the ferocity of a seasoned litigator, but you’ll also share a post-match beverage with your opponents, swapping stories and commiserating over missed opportunities.
The true victory, however, lies not in the final score, but in the shared experience. It’s about the camaraderie, the laughter, and the enduring friendships forged on the court. It’s about celebrating the absurdity of it all — the questionable line calls, the “miraculous” shots, and the unavoidable post-match analysis that inevitably devolves into a lively debate about the merits of various grip sizes and string tensions.
We, the players, eagerly await the start of the season. The anticipation is palpable. We sharpen our skills, meticulously maintain our equipment, and dream of glorious victories (or at least avoiding a humiliating defeat). The courts beckon, and we are ready to answer the call.
Let the games begin!
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or a random group of dads from East Cobb, is purely coincidental.
