Tennis match, second set. I lost the first set, and on my way to lose the second. I'm down 2-1 in that second set.
My opponent hits a shot: short, spinning, and to my right. On the bounce, it spins further to the right and away from me. I swing but miss the shot; as I do, my legs buckle.
My calves had been sore and cramping earlier; the opposing team's school trainer happened to be there and helped me out. But this time, it's bad. Both legs give out at the same time, and I barely manage to throw my racket away (no sense breaking my wrist while I'm at it).
I hit hard, skin my knee, then somehow skin it a second time, this time right below the kneecap. I roll over and realize I can't get up. Both calves feel like they have a knot in the middle. It's probably another thirty seconds before I totter over to the fence.
But by that point, the pain is dull enough to ignore. I play six more games, hurting every step of the way. Running on adrenaline and stubbornness, I even win two of them.
I didn't win. Team didn't win, either. But that little bit of persistence - playing despite the pain - I'm proud of that.
And don't let anyone ever tell you that tennis is a non-contact sport. Cause hitting the concrete isn't exactly much more pleasant than hitting a person.
RIP Chuck Berry
3 days ago