Because I would never invade anyone's privacy, I'll call them X, Y, and Z. You don't know any of them.
They cover a span of 27 years. They are so different from each other, that if you were to see them play, you'd hardly think they were playing the same sport.
But they share one commonality: they were never satisfied—"good enough" was never good enough.
She was left-handed and played one-singles before any of you were born. (Parents, I don't mean you.) She did not look like an athlete, whatever that means, and she didn't talk like one. She didn't put a lot of credence into being "psyched up" or any other artificial aspects of sport: she trusted her shot—her only one: a backhand slice. If you hit to her forehand, she would keep the ball in play and wait; if you hit to her backhand she would return a low slice that tended to move away from right-handed players. It was slow and tempting and difficult to time. Frustrated opponents chalked up the losses.
She finished the season winning all but three at #1 singles. She won because she played her best shot all the time and trusted it. And in practice she worked on her...do I really have to say it?
She hit the ball as hard as any boy back then, and back then in the early nineties girls did not his the ball very hard. They counted on finesse and mistakes and patience. This girl had no patience. She had learned to play from boys who loved to pound the ball; in order to compete, she had to do the same. Forehand and backhand, lots of topspin, and plenty of paceYou.
And attitude.
I often tell you that your opponent is not your enemy, but for this young lady I was wasting my breath. In one tournament another team actually conspired to beat her by calling foot faults just to upset her. She wasn't foot-faulting: she won in straight sets anyway. I don't think she and her opponent shook hands after. But she did every other time, she called lines fairly, and treated her opponents with respect. Practices were like games. She didn't waste time on shots she wasn't going to use: she developed the ones that would win for her. Note; in the state tournament she was eliminated by a young lady who did nothing but...yep, slice.
She was a terrific athlete, a natural who played two other sports and came out for tennis as a sophomore. As a senior she went undefeated at #3—just couldn't beat the number one and two. She had no strategy, a decent serve, and groundstrokes that were "good enough." But she got to everything. Her footwork and foot speed were so good (she was a great soccer player too) and her anticipation so sharp, that wherever her opponent hit the ball, she got to it. She was never out of the point.
But there was more—there was a sense of pride that would not let her lose. No drama. No histrionics. Just "give me a can of balls and let me play." Of course at number three she seldom won any accolades—except one: when she paired up in doubles with another girl for the conference tournament, they came within a set of the championship.