Working on my game. Pfff. A therapist I should call her. Standing back on the baseline. Yelling at me. Why did you do that? What were you thinking? How could you get yourself into that position?

She beats me. Not in points.

She takes my head and beats it up. She makes me think about why I do things. These metaphysical moments are hard to find in life.

“Good shot.” HA! It was. I got one. They are rare but they are always accurate. A compliment. Wonder if I will earn a second today.

I know I am shooting well today. I have not been to therapy since mid-June. Last time I was here it was my best session ever. She and I both agreed on that. Back on the couch. Why can’t I perform here? Why am I missing the ball. “Did you play better yesterday?” she asks. Yes I say . She has pulled my into that trap again. “Well you aren’t playing well now.” comes out as she smiles.

I figure it out. I think different. I feel threatened to perform. I know that I have to change a thought. If I can play well against her I can beat them.

Head game. Hey it’s my head so it’s my game.

Dripping with sweat I plod on. “Did you do that on purpose? Did you plan that shot?” She asks. Well yes I had to based on the position I was in it was the only shot I had. I get a second compliment. “Well done then.”

I try to do the shot over. Contacting the ball further and further in front of my body. Misshitting over and over. Trying to gain back my control. Opening my face towards the sky and getting ridiculous results. My racket hand is relaxed.

Have to work on what I think.

Miss you Brian McPhate RIP

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