Walking Under Ladders by Craig Cignarelli

Written by: Staff on 5th September 2013

Walking Under Ladders by Craig Cignarelli |

Please place seven newly strung, well-stenciled rackets into your bag, rubber bands at the handle to hold the plastic in place.

Set water bottles at 45 degree angles such that labels are out and there is a distance of 2.5 centimeters between them, noting the equality of fluid levels in each bottle and ensuring the unexpected drip shall fall in symmetrical shapes.

During pre-serve routine, bounce ball an odd number of times, odd referring to the number and not the awkwardness, in hopes that the internal rhythm achieved by the odd-numbered cadence will synchronize something in the muscle memory that will result in a major title.

Turn back to court and gently hop to-and-fro upon toes before placing hair tendril behind ear and executing wrathful glare.

Take a fan’s pen to sign autographs and accidentally forget to sign the magazine or ball of the seven-year old who gave you the pen and then read about it tomorrow’s papers.

Remove father’s forehead from hitting partner’s nose and explain that vicarious living is often dangerous and sometimes criminal.

When re-gripping rackets, use only counterclockwise movements and press down with left thumb while starting grip tape slightly below top of grip line and then wrapping clockwise across grip until tiny sliver is left beyond top of grip, so no grip shows through. Then insert dampener, gently and curse yourself for your obsessive-compulsiveness before starting the whole process over due to the mistaken clockwise crap.

Step completely across all white lines, avoiding contact for fear of incurring some karmic damage to both game and soul.

Sleep in a pod. Steer clear of gluten. Shave chest in case of win. Practice primal scream and pray cameras don’t show it in slo-motion.

Step near back fence and perform several fast swings while jumping on one foot and recalling practice sessions which included throwing fishing lines and carrying thirty pound cowbells and hoisting sandbags over trash bins before realizing you’ve already retired before the draw opened.

Skip steroid meeting and load up on pasta and Pedialyte.

Place foot into left shoe first, then into right, then tie left lace, then tie right lace, pull up left sock and fold gently, repeat same with right sock, and then kiss two fingers and hoist them skyward in tribute to the great old John Wooden who spent his first hour of practice instructing his team how to put on their shoes in preparation for winning championships.

Screech at the 100-decibel level, and then scamper, for fear of something prehistoric or an aroused owl responding.

Tug ear, nose, ear, ear, nose, ear.

Search for name on draw, read name on draw, check court time, review draw again, confirm time with tournament desk, ask coach to check draw time, confirm again prior to bedtime, call for wake-up call four hours before match time, set alarm clock to rise three hours before match time so you can re-confirm match time. Reconfirm wake-up call. Don’t sleep.

To save the energy required to say the word “towel,” point at ball boy, wave hand in front of face, and then reach out hand before slobbering doglike into the towel and then tossing it at the wretched and disgusted twelve year old who now stands drenched in your DNA.

Place left leg behind right ear, and lick left elbow twice while holding two fingers under left foot. Repeat this and the rest of the stretching routine seventy-four times per day or end up serving like Sjeng Schalken.

Consume same exact meal for fourteen days straight in a city known for its variety of restaurants and excellent cuisine. Certify chef and waiter are both working every night of the event and be willing to pay them extra if they won’t take their normal two days off because your gastrointestinal system is finely-tuned and the twelve-minutes-late bowel movement is going to wreak havoc with both your practice sessions and your coach’s need to relieve himself. Don’t order sushi.

With a kiss on each forehead, place twins into bed and enter stadium full of screaming fans, with the most nonchalant gait of all time, and give a winning smile before performing racket acrobatics which would make cirque de soleil actors recoil with envy.

Place spandex tights over G-string, and then cover with dress, making sure spandex is very visible beneath dress, and that dress will fly skyward with every serve to reveal the fluorescent or flesh-toned derriere-covering spandex, such that a photo on the cover of Sports Illustrated is guaranteed.

Accept adolescent attributes as an alliterative way of deferring to the veterans when it comes to things like lockers and showers and practice courts and signing autographs and walking off the court.

Create most dramatic hair/clothing ensemble in human history and then curse out lines crew before giving a press conference that requires an Oscar, all before coming up with a reason why this is the worst you’ve ever played but still been able to find a way to win a slam.

Remove underwear from ass-crack.

Face your fears, see your opponent’s nervousness, accept failure, deal with failure, overcome failure, believe in success.

Enjoy trophy for three days before starting to train for next event.

Topics: 10sballs, Craig Cignarelli, Tennis

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10sBalls_com says:

September 5, 2013 at 9:41 pm

Walking Under Ladders by Craig Cignarelli – http://t.co/GeZ4pIjlYY @CraigCignarelli #tennis @BleacherReport