Wishing to be a coach

Klin Cheng

Feb, 1994 first written

Oct, 2004 revised

Sep 9, 2011 typed out

I was spending my days with patience and expectation—by patience I mean you have to go through all the trivialities and daily routines without making any complaints; and by expectation I mean you always have a wish for betterment and improvement despite all the thwarts. Knowing I was unable to make anything great and terrific, I got reconciled with myself. There were no more silly struggles regarding my unlikely pursuit. Everyday, dressed in tennis suit, I went to a nearby campus court for one or two hours workout. From time to time, my clothes were wet by sweat. Yet I continued to repeat my strokes until my playing hand can no longer be controlled. I didn’t make this for past-time or for amusement. It was a discipline that will fulfill my ultimate goal. Determined to advance myself in a way I hope, I found I had a zest for the sport. So, I don’t mind if the court is deserted or if I can find any company, since a wall is enough for me. Striking against it again and again, I was able to come up with a style that is graceful and elegant. In less than two years, my newly-trained right hand had already played as good as my skillful but injuries-plagued left hand. It’s an outcome of relentless efforts and a result of toil on even rainy days. Nobody understands why, at the age of 45, I still tried to hone my skills as hard as an up-and-comer. In fact, I was enchanted by the progress I made during the span. It simply pleased me to know I can win respects by becoming dominant over others. After all, I was to see myself as someone who can do something practically and devotedly. To meet this purpose, I had to exercise my will all the while. Pitting myself against my putative rivals, I just got the drive to move forward. Of course, I was supposed not to make anything that is beyond my capability, but to do what’s hard enough for me. Really, if I were to set an extraordinary example to any of my possible students, I should have made my act compelling. Already we had too many people who dealt with themselves and others in a big-headed way. I must be humble and cautious so as not to make the same mistake. It’s the only way to vindicate my honesty and act out my commitment.

I had been dreaming of becoming a tennis coach for a long time. The difficult part of it is I don’t want to be ridiculed as an amateur. And I believe only those who got the ability to bring forth the best are worthy of the job. But how impossible this was for me! I couldn’t even convince others to take my way of self-practicing. It might be that people would rather play with others than hit the ball alone; or, lacking the credentials to define myself, I just couldn’t pitch me as someone worthy of the name. But, I saw no reasons why my special way of training shouldn’t be introduced. It saves the necessity of a fellow partner and reduces the cost of coaching charges, while you can learn serve, volley, smash and forehand and backhand drives all by yourself. And this requires one condition only: get the know-how from me. Truly, doing this myself, I found the experiment working, as I was satisfied with my performance. Still, I am more a learner than a mentor. Before I could get anywhere, I shouldn’t be seduced to do such a lousy thing as recommend me for a feat that so many people believe they can demonstrate. I must first shape me up and show people how I came to his. Such an accomplishment, certainly, requires years of endless drilling. But that would not trouble me. I just wonder who could serve as the target of my teaching enthusiasm.  I thought of my young daughters. If one of them shows the same attributes as me, I shall have no problem coaxing them to follow my way. I just have to decide if that’s a good thing for them. Always I told people that children should be allowed to make their own choices. If I impose my priorities upon them, I’ll be guilty of two-facedness. That’s not the way I like. I’d rather do nothing than misuse the power of a father. After all, my kid girls are still too naïve to know the real thing. They would back off from me as long as I made them unhappy. So I must wait and see what might happen. Until they are mentally prepared, I won’t make the discipline a part of their life.

But, my advocacy for laisses faire has shown downsides. As a result of it, I could no longer command or demand my kids. Perhaps that’s why Ruchi, my first daughter, always do whatever her mother and school teachers told her to do instead of listening to my premonition. As a father, I would like to protect my baby beloved from being polluted by utilitarian incentives or addicted to our cultural opiates. But, at this age, how could they come to realize the nature of things? They were doomed to be burdened by those dangerous, poisonous and harmful encouragement, persuasion or urgings coming from the completely insane society. It’s impossible for them to understand why emphasis upon glory, honor and ornament was sometimes a moral sin. My heart ached each time I thought of the way we were brought up. Why boys and girls who show poor academic performance have to be punished? And why bright children are required to go through the ordeal of stressing themselves out again and again? Maybe I should chart a safe course for my innocent girls and help conduct the steering on behalf of them. Only I couldn’t do this without jeopardizing the harmony of my family. My wife, like many others, was opinionated. It was always she who decided what Ruchi shall or shall not do. I tolerated it simply because I was unable to show that her way of upbringing could be destructive. But I never forgot the price that I had paid for the foolish demands of my parents. My wife didn’t understand this, since she herself was not the victim. If my fatherly love can’t foster a solid personality and unleash a happy and healthy sprouting for my babies, what’s the use of the lesson I learned from wounded vanity? How can I stand being denied a say in anything concerning the cultivation of my daughters’ minds? My little daughter, Ruming, deserved a chance to be guided to wherever her turn of mind reflects. It doesn’t matter if she is capable of doing anything brilliant. But, I hope, in her, there must be something spontaneous, something that will bring her good spirits even when there is no applause. That’s what I am going to do as a coach. After all, I advocate an open way of education.