A Holiday Tennis Poem

Five days before Christmas
My Combo team had a match
If we beat team Rod Laver
Then first place we'd snatch

Half our team left town early
The holidays were callin
Our captain was screwed
He called me a ballin'

"Not one four o is in town
To partner you with.
Three O Jim is still here,
Your chances a myth."

"Every time I am scheduled"
I replied with a frown
"I play with a three o
No four os are in town.

This means we are six five
And my chances are slim
In this seven five league
To go out and win."

The day of the match
I went to the mall
Sat on Santa's lap
He said I had gall

To steal precious time
From small girls and boys
To ask that he give me
Three wishes not toys

So I said "Dear Santa,
My partner is weak
He can't hit a forehand,
His volleys are meek.

His first serve is awful
It never goes in
Could you tell him less pace
Isn't the 8th deadly sin?

Crosscourt I prefer
To his down the line errors
This man wages war
But can't instill terror

He volleys the ball
Like he's bashing your head in
Yet none find its target
Don't think that he's aimin'

So if you and your elves
Could give him some calm
Magically transform him
With a wave of your palm

You'd make all my Christmas
Wishes come true
And we'd have a good chance
To win at number 2."

And so that evening
I walked on court 2
Hopeful that Santa
Had remembered to

Fulfill my Christmas wish
And give my partner some pill
That would make him much calmer
And increase his skill

Twas not meant to be
As we lost one and one
Santa granted me nothing
Not one wish- not ONE!

As we packed up our things
I looked in my bag
I saw something odd
An envelope with a tag

I grabbed it and what
Did my eyes come to see
But a book of ten lessons
Not for my partner, but me!

A note was attached
And in it Santa said
"Don't blame your partner for losing
It's all in YOUR head

Your serve should be bigger
Your forehand more stout
You choked five returns
When the score was ad out

You were out of position
More than just once
It was really abysmal
You looked like a dunce!"

And then I realized
I should worry about me
Make my game much better
And perhaps I would maybe

Win more often than now
And be a better player
Instead of blaming my partners
And being a naysayer

So thank you Coach Santa
You sage tennis elf
For reminding me to always
Shine my ire on myself