**"SMASH, SMASH!"** Coach Amber and Coach Mat run from one side of the mini-tennis court to the other, whacking back every oversized red and green ball that flies toward them. Sweat drips down Mat's brow but dries quickly after a breeze filtered by the abundant trees surrounding them grazes his face. Amber crushes a clean backhand winner down the line and celebrates with a smirk. Mat picks up the soft and fuzzy practice ball off the ground.

"These miniature courts are too easy for you," he says.

"It's not that. Frances Tiafoe once said, 'You just feel way sharper when you are hydrated.' Hydration is key," Amber says as she guzzles a cool blue raspberry sports drink. "Bring water next time."

"I've always avoided it 'cause I thought it slows you down," Mat admits.

She shakes her head.

It is 11:00 a.m. **Whoooooooo**, a whistle blows, notifying students ages 6–9 to walk to their assigned courts. The kids have been side-shuffling, jogging, butt-kicking, and lunging with other coaches for the past 15 minutes. They gather their small rackets and meander their way toward us.

"Thanks for hitting with me. See you next week," says Mat.

He's done coaching for the day.

"Um, hey Mat, about that. Can you cover my eleven o'clock class next Saturday?"

"This class? Oh no. I can only really do the 9 o'clock class. My wife and I have a second breakfast together in 15 minutes."

"A second breakfast sounds important, but sleep on it. You're probably too tired and cranky to think empathetically after the winner I just hit past you. My kids are well-trained, trust me." She puffs out her chest. "Don't make any decision on this until you are hydrated."

He nods.

"Maybe." He puts his tennis bag over his shoulder and scratches his chin on his way to his apartment.

---

After getting home, Mat braces himself to break the news to his wife. He knows she'll be unhappy about it and hopes that she'll give him a great reason for why he can't do it. Mat takes a sip of sweetened decaf café con leche he just microwaved and tells her.

Arms out, palms forward, Mat says, "Hey Babs, one of the coaches asked me to cover her class next week. I'd rather not since I don't even know those students, and I need my break."

Mat prefers the 9 a.m. class because he can teach and still have time in the rest of the day to lounge, play video games, go to the movies, and enjoy his life with Babs as the universe intended—unperturbed. When it comes to free time, every second counts.

As expected, Babs crosses her arms and says, "Oh, come on. It's our only full day off together. This was not our agreement. Let me think..."

Mat is secretly rooting for her to come up with something good. He’d rather not coach the extra class, but he’s embarrassed to say he can't without a valid reason, and in his mind, starting any explanation with 'My wife...' is a deal breaker.

"It's just for one week, right? And I could make it an extended spa morning. Fine... okay, we can just skip 'Second Breakfast' next week."

She bites into the egg and cheese whole wheat everything bagel she prepared for herself.

He had expected her to put up more of a fight. "Negative. 'First breakfast' is just coffee and fruit. I need real food like this." He points to his bagel. "We'll just have a late 'Second Breakfast' next week. More importantly, as you know, I don't even like kids that much. I'm doing this volunteer job because I am not good enough to coach adults yet and also because I want to be a more well-rounded, non-weird person who can interact with all humans, including kids. And most important of all, if I ever run for mayor of New York City, I need proof that I've done volunteer work."

Babs rolls her eyes. "Those reasons are terrible. It'll be fun."

"Nope. What if I get little brats who don't want to be there? Or kids who just want to hit balls out of the park on purpose? This is week six. My 9 o'clock class is already trained in my style, so they are easy to manage."

"Take a deep breath, love. You're a good coach. It'll be fine. Make sure to stay hydrated," she says.

Mat remembers Amber and Tiafoe’s sage words on hydration. "Smart."

---

The following seven days are speckled with random ideas for children's tennis lessons.

Mat’s 9 a.m. class, like always, is a blast thanks to his mini-tennis soldiers and water bottle. But the test of his coaching endurance starts now.

It is 11:00 a.m. **Whoooooooo**, the whistle goes off, and four tots he's never met before come to his mini court.

"Alright, kiddos, I am Coach Mat. Tell me your names, why you're here, and report any injuries. Begin."

A little hand rises. The blonde 6-year-old girl with a toothy smile says, "My name is Ballerina. I'm here 'cause I need to exercise. And for injuries, I'm not sure if this counts, but my tooth is loose." She wiggles it with her finger.

"Let's make sure all the balls are far away from Ballerina's mouth, team. Thanks for reporting that, Ballerina."

She grins.

"Next?" he says.

"Me, me, me!" says a little boy with a Mr. T mohawk. His racket is half the size of his body.

"Alright, what's your name, sir?" asks the coach.

"I'm Greek, like the country."

"Not sure why I am here 'cause I've never been here before. My parents just dropped me off."

"Greek, are you sure you are on the right court?"

"I think so."

"Do you want to be here and why?"

"YEAHHH! I want to hit tennis balls as hard as possible."

"Okay, great, stay. Any injuries?"

"Fell and landed on my chin at the park." He sticks his chin out to show Mat.

"Can you swing a racket?"

"Yes."

"Okay, great! Thanks for reporting, Greek."

"Who's next?"

"I'm Melon, like the fruit." Melon is holding a tiny pink racket the size of a table tennis paddle. It fits in her hand perfectly.

"Hi, Melon. Do you have any injuries to report?"

She rests her hand on her hip. "I don't know."

"And why are you here?"

"I don't know," she says.

"I like your honesty and self-awareness. Okay... next."

"My name's Sunbeam, but you can call me Sun," lisps a little girl with long blue braids.

"Any injuries?" She closes her eyes to think.

"I had an eyelash in my eye a couple of days ago, but it's out now."

"Wonderful! And why are you here?"

"I've been playing tennis for a long time. I was like three when I started. That's why."

"That's almost half your life," Mat remarks, impressed.

Her eyes widen in shock.

"Such a positive team. I love it! You guys are great. Take a sip of water and let's get started."

---

Ten minutes pass, and in that time Mat positions everyone around the mini court, models how to do a forehand swing, and instructs the class to follow him. He breaks it down into three steps, and three out of four kids mimic his movements.

"Hey, Melon, you should be swinging from your right side," Mat advises.

She has been swinging in every direction except her right side despite corrections, repositioning, and modeling from Mat. He takes a sip of water, then it dawns on him.

"Oh, wait, are you righty or lefty?" he asks.

She shrugs. "I don't know."

"Which hand do you write with?" he tries again.

She stares at him, confused. "I don't know."

"Where's your mom?" Mat asks, concerned.

"I don't know." She looks around and points to a bench with five women.

One of the women, presumably her mom, stands as soon as Mat looks at them. "Is she righty or lefty?" he yells.

The woman raises her right arm and shakes it. "Righty," she smiles awkwardly.

---

Thirty minutes later, Sun says, "Can I sit? I am tired."

"Sure, take a quick break, but make your time productive. Class ends at 12:20. We have less than an hour left. Think about tennis while you're resting. And drink water," Mat says. He worries that his worst nightmare will come true and that disengagement will spread if he doesn't handle this right. Mat turns and refocuses on the other students.

"I will think about tennis, promise," Sun wiggles her pinky finger at Mat.

He extends his hand, and they lock pinky fingers.

She smirks.

---

After another 30 minutes and various nudges to get her to rejoin them, Sun remains on the floor, playing with rocks and carving a branch.

Mat bends down, leans into her, and in a low voice says, "You said you’ve been training for three years. Do you want to be my assistant? I’d love your help."

She leans in as well, then shakes her head.

It does not motivate her to get up. Her dad apologizes to Mat for her lack of enthusiasm today and explains that she has had lots of unpleasantness at home lately.

"I gotcha," says Mat, who places his hand over his heart and points to his brain in an effort to convey, *I feel you and I understand*. After getting an okay from the dad to let her be if she wants to sit by herself, Mat returns to the rest of the class. To his surprise and liking, their three faces wait for his next instruction with heartwarming diligence.

---

For ten minutes, Mat tosses the kids tennis balls, the students swing, and Mat ducks. Smiles can be found aplenty, and eventually the basket of balls empties out.

"Great job with your forehands, everyone. Let's pick up the balls," Mat says.

The kids dutifully pick up the hundred or so red and green balls spread out like Christmas tree ornaments on the mini court.

"Thanks for getting up to help us pick up the balls, Sun. We appreciate it," Mat compliments.

Sun uses her T-shirt as a basket to carry around nine balls.

"Ha, you look like a squirrel taking nuts to her treehouse, Sun," Mat jokes.

"You're the one with nuts—in his head," she smirks.

"Huh?"

"Yeah," she points to his head.

"Fine, you don’t look like a squirrel, okay?"

"Okay," Sun agrees.

---

Twenty minutes later, while practicing backhands, Greek hits every ball that comes near him over the fence and into the grass, trees, and bushes surrounding the courts. Ballerina’s dad has volunteered to stand outside the fence and throw Greek’s balls back into the court. Mat presses his lips together and restrains himself mentally from wagging his finger and warning Greek to "stop it or else..." and instead reminds him to keep his eyes on the ball, step into his shot, and swing over his shoulder. Greek looks straight into Mat's eyes with the intensity of an ex-Army commando. Mat throws him the ball and sees another ten balls fly over the fence again.

"One more!" yells Ballerina.

"Relax and aim for the floor. Let's see what happens," Mat says.

Finally, Greek swings and keeps the ball in the park. The group cheers.

---

"All right, let's pick up the balls again. It's time to wrap it up for the day," Mat announces.

"Oh nooooo, class is over? This was fun," says Ballerina.

"I know," Mat replies, surprising himself.

"Can I do a pull-up on your arm?" she asks.

"How is that possible, and what does this have to do with tennis or with picking up the balls?" Mat questions.

"You'll see. Just lift your arm," Ballerina insists.

Mat, feeling a bit awkward and concerned about boundaries, looks around for assistance from the parents, but they are engrossed in their phones.

"Come on," she says, batting her giant bunny eyes.

Mat reluctantly raises his arm. She grabs it and tries a pull-up. After holding herself up for a few seconds, Ballerina releases her grip.

"Happy?" Mat asks, still a bit puzzled.

"I'm strong." Ballerina flexes and, to Mat's relief, starts to pick up the balls.

"That's true. Your forehand's gonna crush that ball next week if you practice at home," Mat says.

She growls.

---

Except for throw-tennis and ball collection, Sun sits through much of the class despite her dad, Ballerina, and Mat’s many encouragements to rejoin them.

"I hope you've at least been thinking about tennis the whole time like we agreed, Sun. We missed you out here."

"I have. Look at the new toy I made. Guess what it is?" she says and shows Mat an intricately carved twig with a leaf tied to the end of it.

Mat shakes his head.

"A fan?"

"It's a tennis racket," she laughs.

"Great job," he says, satisfied with her response and joy.

---

Mat instructs the students to regroup one last time to say goodbye, shake hands, and disperse. To his confusion, Greek runs in the opposite direction of the exit. He then grabs a ball on the far end of the court, runs back, jumps in the air, does a majestic 360-degree turn, and dunks the ball into the portable tennis-ball carrier.

He celebrates the achievement by giving Mat a jumping high-five.

"Thanks," says Mat.

"Teamwork makes the dream work," Greek says and runs off.

"See you next week," waves Ballerina.

Mat says, "Okay," knowing that that won't be the case and feeling a little guilty about the white lie.

"Thanks, Coach Mat," lisps Sun as she leaves.

"You're welco—" he utters.

Mat sees a little body rushing towards him. Air is pushed out of his lungs. His chest is compacted. When he looks down, Melon is giving him a bear hug with her eyes closed.

*What's happening? This much physical contact is definitely unacceptable*, Mat wonders, feeling concerned about boundaries and what the parents might think. Unsure of how to react, he raises his arms in the air, as if to convey, *It's not me; it's her*. He looks towards Melon's family for assistance, but they are engaged in conversation. Eventually, Melon releases her grasp.

"What was that about?" Mat asks, hoping for an explanation.

"I don't know," Melon replies before walking away.

He disposes of his empty water bottle, walks towards the exit, and says goodbye to the other coaches, all the while wondering if Melon hugged him for being such a great coach or for something else. Either way, it's nice. The feeling energizes him.

---

Mat rushes back to the apartment, eager to start his weekend and, if he's lucky, a stack of 'Second Breakfast' pancakes.

"Poor baby, you must be exhausted after two straight classes. How was it?" Babs asks as he walks in.

"I loved it! They were so cute and funny. I might have to steal Amber's class going forward," Mat exclaims as he sniffs pancakes cooking on the griddle.

"What!" Babs smacks her forehead and turns off the stove in fake protest. "That's wonderful! This was not the reaction I was expecting."

"I'm joking, but those kids did win me over. They were great. And your water hack was a great idea. Amber said the same thing. I need to thank her next week too. And hopefully win a few more points against her in a rematch. Who'da thunk that?"

"Like everyone that's ever taken PE class since first grade."

"Fair enough. But I am more confident about staying pumped for two coaching classes in a row if I need to do it. And about working with unenthusiastic students. I've leveled up like 100 points in my tennis mental toughness," Mat says, making a fist. "Amber is going down next week."

"First, you need to be able to beat me without moonballs and junk shots," Babs says, rolling her eyes.

"Fine. Let's play!"