Post 9: "This I Believe" full essay

Revised on 2/24 to correct two spelling errors:

I believe in hope. Recently, I watched the movie, "The Pianist." Szpilman, a Jewish pianist residing in Poland in the midst of World War II, nearly averted death multiple times. It's ironic that I should use a depressing movie where seemingly everything goes wrong to exemplify hope. The matter of fact is that it was only when even hoping for survival was futile: when Szpilman's entire family was sent to a concentration camp, when he ran out of food and water for days at a time, when his hope; his vindication to live shined through prior adversity.

It would be naïve of me to think that any of my problems can be compared to Szpilman’s story of hope, but when I have that bad match in tennis, hope, and never giving up is what pulls me through. The only thing which keeps me going is that voice in my head which tells me, “Never give up: if you try harder on the next point, you’ll be back on track to win. I’ve got this.”

Through my experiences in tennis, hope has been what has made me win tough matches. At the end of every tennis season, there is a tournament among the 60 best players in the state. Last year, I was the only freshman in the quarterfinals, and I was playing a tight match against a junior. I had won the first set, 6-4, and in the second set, I was down 4-5, and in that game, 15-40. What was worse is that we were playing “no-ad,” which, to put it simply, meant that my opponent had three consecutive points in which he could win the set. Since we had already spent over two hours straight battling in the relentless, blazing sun, I was ready to fight like I’d never fought before for those three points. I took a step back and took three deep breaths: in through my nose, holding each for five seconds while gently shutting my eyes, and exhaling through my mouth. I reluctantly swiveled around, opened my eyes, and was greeted by reality: the crowd, which my court was encompassed in, was now on their feet in anticipation, without a single person cheering for me. My opponent bounced the ball twice, tossed it up, and smacked it. The seemingly fastest serve I had ever seen was heading straight toward me. My body froze in shock and my legs did not budge. Just as the ball was about to pass me, I told myself, “Never give up: if you try hard on this point, you’ll be back on track to win. I’ve got this.” At the last moment, I lunged toward the ball, barely getting my racquet on it. The shot flew a few feet above the net toward my opponent. He sprinted to the ball and pummeled it into the other corner. Running as fast as I could, I barely got to the ball again, just being able to tap it over the net. However, this time, my opponent missed the “put-away” shot. Discouraged by this point, he played the next two points carelessly, missing shots by wide margins. I brought the score up to 5-5. I knew that I had him now: his head was hanging, and he threw his racquet at the fence, resulting in a loud reverberating clank. With this new-found confidence, I was able to win the proceeding two games, and take the set, 7-5, and the entire match as well.

Sometimes, hope is lurking just around the corner, or just past that one shot. Who would have guessed that getting just one more ball back could lead to my opponent losing his cool? Who would have known that hoping for the best, and not giving up; just hoping for one break to pull myself out of a daunting situation could lead to winning the set, and the match? Perhaps, before that tennis match, the voice in my head telling me to get one more shot back, and to win one more point, was just a mere mantra which I recited to myself, believing the words of my coaches. However, after that experience, I genuinely know how much hope can result in. And it all starts with a one more step, for that one point. “Never give up: if you try harder on the next point, you’ll be back on track to win. I’ve got this.”