I can still feel the rough spots of asphalt underneath me, balanced on one knee, fingertips on the ground. I remained as still as possible, razor focused, ready to sprint. I was at the net, my gaze set on that white band at the top, not daring to look to my left as one of the world’s most celebrated tennis players, Chris Evert, served an ace.
It was the mid 1970s. I was eight years old and had been playing tennis half my life.
I am a woman who grew up in the world of sports. Read More
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