Tennis anyone? Anyone? Anyone?

Yesterday me, my hub, my mom, and my MIL travelled through rain, sleet and snow to watch my daughter play tennis against the undefeated first singles champion from West High in Salt Lake.

When it comes to state tennis tournaments, as in life, there must be a winner and loser. But for the record, it took that winner a long time to beat my daughter.

My daughter was the loser. But she was a beautiful loser.

She was almost a beautiful winner. Almost won every point she lost. Every point went to deuce, and it was hard to tell the difference between the winner and the loser. Except when it came to beauty. That's where my daughter really shined.

Sometimes the line between winning and losing is fingernail thin. But the gap between beauty and not-as-much beauty is always deep and wide.

The upside to not getting all the fame and glory is that it frees you up to focus on your strengths and weaknesses, with special emphasis on your weaknesses. Each match becomes a lesson rather than a victory.

You learn how to keep your head in the game and how to keep your opponant out of your head. You learn how to pay attention and keep score because there are no refs in tennis. It's just you and your oppoanant battling it out. Your word against hers. And the more games you win, the more your opponant will challenge those games and question those games. Your opponant may even take a game or two from you if you let them. (But don't you let them!) Especially if they eats nails for breakfast.

My daughter eats hashbrowns for breakfast. (Buy if anyone has a good nail recipe, please do share.)

High school tennis is now over. Forever. (sniff) And my daughter will have to continue learning about life from life, rather than from tennis. (sniff). But at least she's got a head start. Yesterday, after the match, she got in the car and said "Well, I learned something really important about myself this season." We all waited with baited breath. "I gotsta stand up for myself. I let people walk all over me."

"Except the drummer in the band," I told her. "You didn't let him walk all over you."

Silence.

"I mean, he threw his drumstick at you, but technically he didn't walk all over you."

Silence.

"And you kept the drumstick to prove it."

Silence.

There's a moral here. There's a definite moral here. Why? Because I'm a Mormon and we love our morals. Yes my daughter lost, but ultimately she didn't come away from the state tourney empty handed. Besides the lessons learned she is now the proud inheritor of a sweat shirt.

That's right, she got really excited when she saw my MIL's cross-stitched sweatshirt, and now she has her dibs on it in the will.

Didn't I tell you she had a dusty soul?

Betcha can't guess the first thought that popped into my head when she said she's going to wear it to her children and grandchildren's tennis matches.