One year later, one year humbler

By Tom Kosinski Sports Central Columnist

It was just a year ago that Venus Williams and Lleyton Hewitt captured the U.S. Open championships, and for a brief shining moment, the hearts of the sports world. Two great champions standing in the shadows of the greatest city in the world, New York. I still have a copy of a picture taken a day after the Open of Venus with her trophy at Rockefeller Plaza, the World Trade Center rising majestically behind her.

Then, just two days following the finals, as both champions were still basking in the glow of winning the richest and best sporting event on the planet, everything stopped. In an instant, the glimmer and glamour of the previous 14 days disappeared. Those towers, two pillars representing all that was great in the free world were no more. In a matter of hours, our joy and elation had turned to tears and sadness. And fear.

My head, like an old, scratched vinyl record, is still stuck on that day. I can still see the smoke rising from the city. I still remember the eerie silence after all the planes were grounded. I still have nightmares watching both towers collapse into a pile of smoldering dust. I am reminded everyday of that moment, 8:46 AM.

There is a young widow who lives a few blocks away from me. I will never forget her tears as she told of her last conversation with her husband on that morning. I will never forget the many e-mails and calls I got on that day, tennis friends and acquaintances from around the world checking to see if I was out of harms way. What a comfort they were. And what comfort tennis has been.

In the days following the attacks on September 11th, I questioned whether tennis mattered at all. I watched high school players practice at my tennis center, and with every plane that passed overhead, I heard gasps and calls from the girls. "Coach, look, a plane!" They had a genuine fear in their eyes watching one of a thousand military transports fly over our courts, as if each one might crash on top of them. I watched as students went through the motions, as if all the life had been sucked out of them (which it had.)

When I finally picked up a racquet again, just two weeks after the towers lay in ruin, my heart just wasn't in it. How could I just pickup and continue to play a game, when there are so many people hurting, so many people who lost loved ones, so many people who will never play games again? I didn't know. My hand trembled as I pulled my favorite frame from its case. I cried as I raised a ball in the air to serve. My fortress of solitude, that green surface outlined with the purest white, no longer protected me.

Tennis has seen me through many tough times; the unexpected suicide of my father, and the loss of several beloved friends. Through failed relationships, bad financial times, strings of bad luck, tennis has always been there to comfort me. Tennis gave me something to get lost in. Not that the problems went away, but for a little while, I would have to concentrate on watching a fuzzy yellow sphere and make it do my bidding. I ruled between the lines, and if the world wanted to take me down, it had to stand on the other side of the net and face my wicked serve and onslaught of powerful strokes and volleys.

Likewise, tennis has seen me through this tragedy, as well. From the initial sorrow, to the growing anger, to the feeling of helplessness, tennis has seen me through. When I was angry, I spent hours hitting serves as hard as I could. When I was sad, my teams were there to give me that needed love and boost. When I felt like there was nothing I could do, tennis helped me find a way to give back to those in need.

Today, tennis keeps me centered. It is a constant reminder that there are few things in life that truly matter. No, tennis really isn't one of them. Friendship, teamwork, love, compassion, and sharing do. I am reminded of that everyday as I step onto a court. With every "pop" of a ball against my strings, I know that it's not what happens between the lines that matters, but it's what happens after all the rallies are over that does.

The smile on a player who just learned how to hit a slice backhand matters. Wiping the tears of the player who has problems at home matters. Creating a place where young people can feel safe and share their emotions matters. And tennis has allowed me to do all that.

September 11th will always be a turning point for me. On that day, I lost my innocence. On that day, I came to fully understand that every moment in this world is fleeting and that we are only here by the grace of God. So from now until the day I finally hang up my racquet, with every serve, stroke, and volley, with every high five in victory and every tear in defeat, I will remember. Every swing of my racquet will be a living memorial to those who gave their life that day. I can only pray that is good enough.

Article courtesy of Sports Central.