My hands began to sweat, the scorching sun making it worse than usual. I gripped my tennis racket. I bounced the ball, and watched it ricochet off of the ground and back into my hand. It was the first serve of the game, so I shouted across the court to my opponent: “Love all”. She was an intimidating girl, tall with dirty blonde hair wrapped in a slick ponytail. This could be bad, I thought to myself. Right after my short distraction, I looked up and threw the glowing yellow ball into the air above me. Squinting quite harshly, I whacked the ball with my racket, sending it flying swiftly through the air until it reached the court on the opposite end. I immediately knew my opponent was advanced when she received the ball back to me with a mighty, solid backhand that followed up with a short grunt after using as much power as possible. She directed the ball to the opposite side of the court as I was, making me dash to the ball. My feet were pounding on the clay. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Whack! I hit the ardent ball back to her with a powerful forehand, and she couldn't return to it before the second bounce occurred. So, it was my serve again. I laid eyes on the illuminated court and spoke again: “15 love”.