Get your head in the game: Tennis and anti-perfectionism

My high school history teacher used to livestream tennis matches in our boarding school common room as if it were a horror movie. She’d bite her nails during tiebreaks, clutch her hair and let out a heavy sigh at every double fault. Sometimes, she would look even more distressed than the players themselves. 

I realized something strange: For many viewers, tennis is more stressful to watch than to play.

Tennis may have the cutest athletic apparel branding across all sports, with pleated skirts and adorable visors. Nothing about tennis and its bright-white shoes looks intense. Wimbledon, one of the four Grand Slams, even enforces an all-white dress code to present the broadcast as a high-class garden party. Meanwhile, beneath the crisp whites and cute hats, many audience members experience emotional rollercoasters. 

Serena Williams, a four-time Olympic gold medalist and 23-time Grand Slam singles champion, memorably broke down in tears, watched by the entire globe. In that 2018 US Open final against Naomi Osaka, Williams smashed a racquet after losing a game, was docked a point and then an entire game for arguing with the chair umpire. Osaka closed out her first Grand Slam victory and the then 36-year-old Williams never won another Grand Slam.

Even Williams, the greatest player of all time, stumbled under the immense pressure that defines tennis. No wonder my history teacher nearly tore her hair out watching Williams. She was not just reacting to forehands, but to a live demonstration of pressure and resilience.

For fans watching tennis on the couch, that kind of emotional whiplash is felt secondhand. You feel every code violation and missed serve in your nervous system. Perhaps paradoxically, the sport feels more intense to watch than to play because those on the court with rackets are focused, while audience members absorb the intensity and pressure the athletes cannot afford to feel in the moment.

At the courts in Claremont, however, tennis looks slightly different. Katia Kriakova SC ’28 picked up a racket in January after reading “Carrie Soto is Back” by Taylor Jenkins Reid over winter break. She decided that if a fictional retired champion could rebuild herself, she could at least try a Thursday beginner clinic. She went in expecting chaos and a steep learning curve, but since then, she has been pleasantly surprised. 

“I always leave feeling refreshed and energized,” Kriakova said. “I made a new very close friend, and we love to play just for the fun of it.”

For Kriakova, tennis is anti-perfectionism training. On a campus where so much of your worth feels tied to flawless output, tennis is an outlet where mistakes are not just inevitable, but appreciated and encouraged. 

Kriakova’s experience with tennis does not include the distress she sometimes feels watching professionals. Because she is the one holding the racket, the same shanks that would make her wince on TV become funny, because for her, imperfection is not catastrophic.

Neil Chulani PO ’26, a Pomona-Pitzer tennis player, however, plays at a much more competitive level. Playing since five years old, he vividly remembers rallying with his older sister while his dad coached them. Now, he is a seasoned Division III player with years of matches under his belt. On paper, college tennis matches are won as a team; yet, in reality, when he steps onto the court, it feels brutally isolating. 

“If I’m having a bad day, my teammates can cheer, but they can’t hit the ball for me,” Chulani said. “There’s a particular sadness of being out there alone when you can’t figure out how to beat the person across the net, knowing that if you lose, you’re not just disappointed in yourself, you’re also hurting the team’s overall result.” 

Chulani stresses that in soccer or basketball, a bad night can be absorbed with a substitution or compensated for by teammates. However, in tennis, there are no substitutions and no hiding. But despite the on-court isolation, tennis brings Chulani immense joy. 

“My favorite thing is when you’re on the court and the entire team is invested and goes crazy after every single point,” Chulani said. “With a partner beside me, the emotional burden splits in half.”

Paul Melendres HM ’28 chose to abandon a tennis career for soccer when he entered high school. In his first year at Mudd, he played varsity soccer for CMS. After realizing the sheer quantity of Mudd problem sets and practice hours his future held in store, he dropped soccer, opting for a more balanced schedule. After a four-year hiatus, tennis came back into his life in the form of an intermediate PE class with Pomona-Pitzer’s women’s tennis coach, Mike Morgan. 

For Melendres, that mindset is the real curriculum of the class. Playing tennis at a less competitive level teaches him to let go of the pressure of being the best player and instead practice showing up, failing and trying again in front of others. 

“Learning to be visibly imperfect has made me more willing to take risks in other parts of my life,” Melendres said. 

As Melendres learns to push himself physically on the court, staying kind to himself mentally has become one of the most rewarding parts of playing tennis.

While tennis asks the terrifying question, “Who are you when no one is there beside you?”, it can also offer a surprisingly gentle way to rebuild that answer. Tennis can be a beginner clinic where failure is funny, a college lineup where teammates show support or a PE class where you get graded to have fun. 

Hair-pulling history teachers aside, joy from tennis can be realized simply by hitting a ball. Yet, across all skill levels, the sport requires a particular kind of courage — the willingness to be imperfect at something in public — and the discipline of coming back after a bad day and choosing to swing anyway.