Alright, let’s talk about that time I got obsessed with Martin Klizan’s tennis. Not in a creepy way, you know, but his style? Man, it was something else. Pure, unadulterated chaos on the court. One day he’s taking down Djokovic, the next he’s spraying balls like a broken sprinkler. That unpredictability, that sheer audacity – it kinda fascinated me.
My Grand Plan
So, one weekend, I had this bright idea. I thought, “I’m gonna try to play like Klizan.” Not to actually be good like him, ’cause let’s be real, that wasn’t happening. But I wanted to inject some of that wild energy into my own, very average, club game. My “practice” for the week was basically to become a human lottery ticket on the court.
I went down to the local courts, roped in my usual hitting buddy, Dave. Poor Dave. He had no idea what was coming. I didn’t even tell him my plan. I just decided, today, I’m Klizan. Or, well, a really, really bad imitation.
The “Practice” Session
So, what did this “Klizan practice” involve? Well, let me tell you:
- Shot Selection: Absolutely bonkers. Drop shots from two feet behind the baseline? You bet. Trying for screaming winners on balls I should have just blocked back? Constantly.
- Serving: I tried these weird, loopy lefty serves (I’m right-handed, by the way). Then I’d try to ace Dave with a flat-out cannonball that usually ended up in the fence.
- Court Positioning: All over the place. Sometimes I’d stand way too close, sometimes practically in the car park. Confusion was the goal, mostly my own.
- Emotional State: I tried to channel that fiery, unpredictable Klizan temperament. One minute I’d be fist-pumping a lucky net cord, the next I’d be muttering at a missed shot like it personally offended me.
The first few points, Dave just looked puzzled. He’d hit a normal shot, and I’d either shank it wildly trying for some miracle angle, or I’d tap it back with a bizarre amount of spin that sent it dribbling into the net. After about ten minutes, he actually stopped and asked if I was feeling okay. I think he genuinely thought I was having some sort of breakdown.
The Glorious Results (Not)
To say it was a disaster would be an understatement. I think I won maybe three points in an hour. And those were probably because Dave felt sorry for me. Balls were flying everywhere. I hit the net more times than I care to admit. I nearly took out a passing pigeon with one particularly ambitious forehand. It was pure comedy, but at the time, I was weirdly committed to the “process.”
Why I Even Bothered
Now, you might be thinking, “Why on earth would you do that?” And that’s a fair question. Thing is, this wasn’t just about tennis. This whole Klizan experiment happened during a really strange period in my life. I’d just walked away from a job that was sucking the soul out of me, without much of a plan. Everything felt up in the air, kinda chaotic, you know? I was just trying anything to feel some spark, some control, or maybe just to embrace the chaos.
So, trying to play like the most unpredictable guy in tennis? It kinda mirrored how I was feeling about everything else. Just throwing stuff at the wall to see what stuck. Spoiler: on the tennis court, nothing stuck. Off the court, well, that’s another long story, but it eventually worked out, no thanks to my Klizan phase.
That’s why I remember this whole ridiculous episode so clearly. It wasn’t a “practice” in the sense of getting better at tennis. Far from it. It was more like a practical record of me just being a bit lost and trying to find some weird way to express it. A truly Klizan-esque chapter in my own little book of life. And honestly, looking back, it’s pretty funny. Dave still brings it up sometimes. Good times, in a weird, self-destructive, tennis-fail kind of way.
