The Unmitigated Disaster of Getting What You Want

A brief biography of my life as a tennis player.

I was the number one singles tennis player at my high school.

By the time I was a senior, no one under the age of 20 could beat me. Before you get too excited, keep in mind that this was in Durango, Colorado—a small mountain town not exactly known for producing tennis greats.

But I was good, and I loved tennis. Before my final season of high school, my family was on vacation in Arizona, and my parents took me to a tennis resort to buy a new racket. They were incredibly supportive and willing to get me the latest, top-of-the-line racket: the Prince CTS Thunderstick 110.

When this racket came out, widebody tech was all the rage. The Thunderstick was Prince's response to the highly successful Wilson Profile, and I had to have it. So there we were at the courts, and the pro who worked there let me try it out. And boy, did this racket hit like a sledgehammer. Every shot was full of power. The entire head of the racket was one giant sweet spot. The only problem was, I had no control. Sure, the ball came off the racket like a gunshot, but without control, I was putting holes in the back fence.

At one point, the pro I was working with handed me a different racket. I can’t remember the name, but it wasn't a widebody, it was half the price, and it was NOT a Prince Thunderstick. But to humor this guy, I spent a few minutes practicing with it. And here’s the thing: every shot was clean and crisp. I didn’t have the same power, but this racket fit my game better. I could place shots with finesse. Instead of the nuclear power of the Thunderstick, I had surgical precision. In ten minutes of playing with this racket, I felt like I was gripping the Mjolnir of tennis rackets. I was Thor, and I had finally become worthy of my hammer.

So, of course, I got the Prince CTS Thunderstick 110.

And so this week, I want to dive into why I chose the more expensive racket (that was worse for my game), what happened to my burgeoning tennis career, and why it matters.

Driven by John Rapicko

My primary competition in the Durango teen tennis scene was an upstart underclassman named John Rapicko. John’s parents had recently bought him the Wilson Profile, the main competitor to the Thunderstick, and he had definitely upped his game. His serves felt like they were 10 mph faster, and his forehand was deadly. Since he had the Profile, it seemed so fitting for me to get the Thunderstick.

I had it in my head that there was some epic story to tell. Our competition would transcend our small mountain town, and these two competing rackets were proof that our rivalry was foretold by the tennis gods.

Additionally, the Thunderstick was more expensive. If it cost more, it had to be better, right? And I seem to recall that Tennis Magazine had said that teenage phenom and French Open winner Michael Chang used a Thunderstick.

It all made sense.

So regardless of my personal experience with the other racket at the club in Arizona, I charged forward with the pricier racket. My justification was that my game would have to evolve if I wanted to excel.

Spoiler: It didn’t.

So What Happened…

At the end of the day, my competition with John Rapicko amounted to nothing. I was able to get some of the control back using the Thunderstick, and John’s newfound power was not enough to out duel my prowess on the court. I went into the season ranked #1.

And then I lost every single match against every other school.

I lost against Grand Junction, Montrose, and Bayfield. I almost beat the kid from Cortez, but fell apart in the final set. I never stood a chance against the wizard from Pagosa Springs. During the season, other teammates would challenge me for the top spot at the school, and I would win every time. I continued to keep John Rapicko at bay. But in inter-school play, I was a disaster. I went into Districts dead last and finished my senior season 0-14. The sport I loved had betrayed me.

To this day, I tell people I was "un-undefeated."

After high school, I quit playing. I didn’t try to make a team in college. I didn’t play intramurals or recreationally. I put my fancy racket in a box and have rarely played since.

Why Am I Telling You This?

I often wonder how things would have worked out if I had chosen the other racket. If I had ignored the hype and price tag of the Thunderstick and instead gone with what felt better to me in the moment. It’s hard to say. They say that tennis is 20% physical and 80% mental, and it may come as a shock to you to learn that I was not the paragon of mental fortitude in my senior year of high school.

It could be that no matter what tennis equipment I had at my disposal, I still would have lost all those games. The pressure of being the best takes its toll, and it isn’t lost on me that I just continued a long tradition of number one ranked tennis players from Durango getting their asses kicked around the state. As I write this, I wonder why they kept sticking with the same coach.

But decades later, I think of this time in my life often.

I was sad to see my tennis career end, but over the years, I have gained so much from this experience. They say you learn more when you lose, and boy did I lose a lot. I must be a freakin' genius.

The unmitigated disaster of getting exactly what you want serves as a stark reminder that the things we think will make us better or happier don’t always live up to their promise. In my case, chasing the prestige of a top-of-the-line tennis racket led me down a path of disappointment and unfulfilled potential. Had I trusted my instincts and focused on what truly fit my game, the outcome might have been different. It’s hard to say. But this experience taught me that true success lies not in the superficial or the hyped, but in aligning your choices with your authentic needs and strengths.

It can be really hard to listen to that part of you that says, "Yes, this is it. Ignore the noise and go with what feels right in your bones.” But, I am grateful for all those losses because ever since then, I have had this litmus test to check for things of substance. When I get distracted by what’s ostentatious or full of false promises, I ask myself, "Wait, is this the Thunderstick all over again?" And this gives me a quick checklist to consider:

• Am I letting the allure of the latest and greatest cloud my judgment?

• Does the expectation of greatness undermine my own abilities?

• Am I ignoring my gut feeling in favor of external validation?

Looking back, I realize that sometimes the best victories come not from getting what you think you want, but from understanding and embracing what you truly need. And I remember that it's not really about the racket—it's about the player and the choices he or she makes.