10-8, match ball. I was nervous, as I was losing. My coach was outside the court encouraging me, telling me not to give up, and my mom shut her eyes and she wouldn’t even look at the game. The two did share one thing in common: the anxious look that was written all over their faces. The referee was yelling, letting us to continue the game, but I couldn’t stop imagining that I might squander all my previous efforts. Hundreds of hours spent on the treadmill, the soaking-wet t-shirts from practicing, and all the blisters on my right palm were marks of my determination to win this game. The cramp in my left wrist was killing me. This was the final set of the game, the fifth set. Both my opponent and I were so tired, yet he still kept the ferocious look he had since the beginning of the match. He raised his racket, hit the ball. What a nice serve that sent the ball to the corner. Oh no!

***

Squash means the world to me, and it can all be traced back to my first year of elementary school. I can still remember the first time when I watched this sport on TV for the first time. It was the China Squash Open semi-final game. I did not have the slightest clue of what the sport truly was, but I knew it was an intense match. To prevent myself from missing brilliant moments of the game, I restrained myself from blinking. Thanks to this game, Gregory Gaultier, the best squash player in France, won himself another fervent follower. The game eventually went into extended rounds. Gaultier served the ball. His opponent received the ball with a completely straight drive and Gaultier hit a marvelous cross that surprised his opponent, and me. The match was over, and Gaultier advanced to the final!

“Wow! This sport is so cool!” I yelled out. My excitement attracted my mom over, and within seconds, she agreed with me on my wish to become an active participant of the squash world. “Little physical contact with opponents, individual sport, and indoor,” She said, “This sport is just right for you.” I instantly jumped off the couch and went to search for information about squash tutoring lessons eagerly. Finally, I decided to start this sport through one-on-one lessons with an American coach. However, things started out differently than I had previously imagined. I couldn’t even hit the ball with my racquet in my first attempts. The sport was much harder and tiring than I thought. I had to rest every few minutes, which immensely shattered my confidence. My skills and endurance improved gradually: my shots were more accurate, and I was also able to run for a longer time.

However, I was informed that my coach had to go back to his homeland because of family reasons. Under emergency circumstances, my mom helped me find another Chinese Coach, who was known to be a great squash player in China. It turned out that my coach was a bit leisurely and didn’t want to challenge me. When I was feeling tired and laid on the ground, my coach was looking at his phone, not to mention encouraging me to get up, or motivating me. I enjoyed this type of training for two years, until a tournament that changed my perception of squash. I walked down the court filled with confidence from an unknown source, which would soon be decimated by my opponent. I couldn’t even receive my opponents serves, and every one of them defeated me almost without breaking a sweat. I lost every single round of that tournament. I was too confused and tried to figure out the cause of all those one-sided matches.

After deep and careful consideration, I left my coach and joined SECA, which is the club that held the tournament. I couldn’t adapt to the new coaches and teammates at first. The coaches trained me in a much stricter way than my original coach and my teammates called me an “ATM” because of how easy it was for them to take points from me. The first year in SECA was a tough, but inspiring one. After four months of training, and hours spent on the court every day, I finally had a chance to prove myself in a competition. Although my squash technique wasn’t as mature as the older players, my improvements were recognized by others. Surprisingly, I was ranked the third seeded player, and the organizers of the competition thought I could get into the semi-final and compete for third place. It was all great news for me.

The day finally came. I got into the semi-final easier than I previously thought, because of the protection of my seed. The semi-final was the best game I played in the whole tournament, and the one that boosted my confidence and interests for this sport. As I faced off against the second-seeded player, David H, who had been training at SECA already for 2 years already, I was going to lose, and supposed to lose. Nervousness and anxiety are common feelings among immature players, including me; within minutes, I already lost the first set of the game, and my opponent seemed to be so relaxing and comfortable playing against me. I wasn’t actually tired because I didn’t even get the chance to run and to save the ball. Then, he became a bit too relaxed, and I won the second set. Right then, when I hoped that I had all my energy, my exhaustions started to creep up on me. During the 90 seconds recess, coach told me several times that I need to get back to “The T”, the center spot in a squash court. “This is the best spot to stay after you hit a ball!” Yelled coach Adam, “you can reach your opponent’s next shot easily because of its location.” I listened carefully and perceived the knowledge.

After the third set started, the atmosphere became much tenser. David picked up his original pace, and I played hard, trying to maintain this trend of winning. I won the first few shots and David fired back with some extraordinary drives. David built his lead, but I caught up with several nice drops. 9-9 in the last set is one of the most nerve-wrecking moments in a squash match. Whoever wins the next point will take the match point advantage. I served the ball, he hit an unsatisfying cross, I took the chance and gave a brilliant drop. 10-9, match ball. My heart was bumping so fast and I took a look at my mom; she encouraged me with a look full of affirmation. I made a lob serve, the ball felt right into the left corner of the court. The T! The T! I ran back to the T and starred at my opponent’s arm and racquet. Within a fraction of a second, I realized that he would hit a boast. I ran to the up-right box of the court and waited for the ball to land. I was right! I had more than enough time to decide what shot I should do. I hit a drop that can be describe as graceful. My opponent couldn’t receive my shot. I won! I ran out of the court and hugged my parents tightly to celebrate. In the final, I was defeated by Peter, one of the players that had the most experience.

During the tournament, a talented but young player, Sam, caught my eyes. We shared eye contact, but little did I know, he later became my biggest rival in my squash career. He had been training for only five months, but he almost defeated David. In the summer, I went to Japan and Hong Kong, and attended the squash tournaments there. I broke into top 32 in Hong Kong and top 16 in Japan, which gave me some points that contributed to the Asia ranking. The following year, Sam played as well as I did. In the Spring tournament, I lost to Sam by 0:2, which was a great lesson to me. Then, in the Hong Kong tournament, I didn’t even get into top 32. I was quite depressed at that time. After discussing with my coach, I was determined to improve my fitness. My one-on- one class slowly became fitness classes; after team training, I had to stay for another 30 minutes. I had been persuaded to join the swimming extra-curriculum classes and every day after school, I would also do rope-jumping for over 500 times.

The “test” for me came, the Kuala Lumper Junior Squash Open. I passed the first round automatically, thanks to my seeding, and in the second round, I met an Australian player. He was taller, stronger, and more experienced. If I lost to him, then I’d pretty already failed the test. In the first set, my strategy was totally wrong. I played lots of drops and they were inefficient, so I lost the first set by 8:11. I adjusted myself and focused more on backcourt to make him run. I was attacking all the time and he was simply defending. I won the second set by 11:8. I kept my strategy in the third set and my opponent seemed to be tired. I had full confidence at that time and I won the third set. 2:1. If I won the next set, then I would achieve my goal. However, he was stronger than I thought. I became impatient while my opponent remained calm. My confidence slowly faded away in to the air. I underestimated my opponent’s ability to save the ball, which he did every time. The score seesawed in the last set. When it came to 6:6, I couldn’t move my left hand because I was so tired. I still managed to keep up with him. Rounds later, the score was tied at 8:8. That was when I started to lose it, my confidence, my calmness, and the game. He continuously won 2 points. 10:8, match ball.

***

I got a cramp in my left hand and it felt like a chicken claw. He raised his racquet, and hit the ball. What a nice serve that sent the ball to the corner. Oh no! I hardly saved the ball, and my opponent nearly smashed it. I ran as fast as I could to reach for the ball, and it barely landed on my racquet frame. The ball floated in the sky, soft and slow, and hit the wall, bounced off really high; He had loads of time to aim and shoot the ball. With a nice straight drive by my opponent, the game finished. I lost, 2:3.

***

I walked out of the court, found a wall, and sat beside it. My mom came and sat with me, without speaking a word. Tacit sadness. My coach brought me to the medical room to cure my cramp.

After stretching, I went back to my hotel. Later, coach Adam and Hade came to my room with a bucket of ice to help me recover. Their soothing words failed to enter my mental zone of disappointment. I did not sleep well that night. After all, who would sleep well after losing a major competition? I kept reflecting on myself, and took a stroll down memory lane. I reminisced about how I picked up the sport, and all the opponents I had defeated in the past, as well as all the matches I lost. My club and my home are far away, located on opposite sides of the city. Every day, I have to be in the car for one and a half hours to train. I put an unimaginable amount of effort into the sport. I even had considered giving up the sport after I lost the match, but I just couldn’t, after so many years, and joyful moments. In turn, I trained harder. I invested my time and money into this sport.

Always remember the T. It is more than a squash term and a winning method for me. In fact, it is a motto. No matter my current state, whether I am depressed or overwhelmed, I have to get back to the T, reflect and think thoroughly about my future steps. Thanks to Sam, I have my greatest opponent, whom I perceive to be both a present and a huge obstacle. Without Sam, I wouldn’t do my best and train hard to catch him. Currently, Sam and I are still competing against each other; However, I have always been the second place in China. I’m still chasing him, and I have made up my mind not to give up. After so many years, I still believe the top to be where I belong. This is the spirit of squash, a combination of persistence and faith. For me, squash is always to be continued.