45 Minutes
Christopher Aumueller
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Tennis can be a lonely sport.
Sometimes, you are out there for hours, and the only interaction you have with another human being is the person on the other side of the net who’s trying to make those hours as miserable as possible.
Once you’re out there, it’s all you.
No one else is going to hit the balls for you.
No one else is going to run for you.
And no one else is going to get you out of your own head.
One of the many reasons why people love this sport.
Tennis is a physical sport, sure. No need to elaborate further. But more than anything, tennis is a mental sport.
Quite frankly, most matches are mentally far more challenging than physically.
Whether or not you have a good first-serve percentage or can trust your backhand in big points is, more often than not, a matter of your mental strength.
Or the lack thereof.
And sure, you can practice that backhand for hundreds of hours.
10/10.
48/50.
95/100.
In practice, no problem.
In matches, that da*n backhand just won’t find the court when it matters.
As is the case in many individual sports, your mental game is half the battle.
Or more than that.
And in my career, as a former tennis player for the Huskers, I learned that the hard way.
More than just once.
The early injuries
When you reach a certain level, it’s not so much about forehands or backhands anymore.
Sure, they matter, but it’s really nuances that will make the difference.
Halfway through my sophomore year, I was playing some of the best tennis of my life.
I had a very strong fall and started the spring season ranked #30 in the country.
I was playing with a lot of confidence and had some good wins early in the spring as well.
But that was all about to change.
During a routine conditioning unit, I landed oddly on my right ankle and sprained it.
At that point, I wasn’t necessarily too concerned.
I went to see a trainer, got treatment the following two weeks, and put on a brace.
Easy.
After roughly one week, it already felt much better, and I was playing as if nothing happened.
Two weeks later, we played against Western Michigan.
Since I haven’t felt any pain in my right ankle for the past couple of days, I decided to play without the brace.
And well, let’s put it that way — one of the biggest regrets of my life.
Within the first 10 minutes of the match, I sprained the exact same ankle again.
This time, it was much more painful and felt quite awkward.
I tried to stay on the court as long as possible, but after the first set, I was forced to shake hands.
The following day, I went back to the trainer, got more treatment, put the brace back on, and gave it some rest.
I started practicing again a few days later and was ready to finish my season strong.
After all, I still had some big dreams and goals, and I didn’t want to let a stupid injury determine the rest of my year.
Roughly two weeks later, we traveled to South Carolina to play against the Gamecocks.
I was ready to face another high-ranked player and battle it out.
Our team had just reached the highest ranking in school history and we were on track to qualify for the NCAAs — also for the first time in school history.
No more tennis
But things would go very wrong.
In the morning, we warmed up for our match and had roughly 10 min left.
I remember playing points against my teammate when I wanted to hit an aggressive backhand.
As a right-handed player, I made a step towards the ball with my right foot and transferred all my weight onto it.
All I remember is that my foot snapped a few times before I went down.
Coaches and teammates instantly came rushing over.
While I didn’t know exactly what happened, I immediately knew what it meant — no more tennis for me for the rest of the season.
My head coach took me to the training room of the South Carolina athletic department, where they gave me some crutches, a million ibuprofen, and put some ice on my foot.
I watched our match from the stands, and as if the injury wasn’t bad enough, we lost the match as close as you can possibly lose a match.
The first night, I didn’t sleep one second.
My foot was throbbing like crazy, and no Ibuprofen in the world was giving me any sort of relief.
After what turned out to be an ‘interesting’ flight home the next day, we finally made it back to Lincoln where I instantly saw my trainer and doctor.
I had torn a couple ligaments and chipped a bone on the inside of my foot.
At that time, I did not know that this bone would bother me for years to come.
Initially, we were hoping that I’d be back out there 3-4 months later.
And well, I guess, I was.
But nowhere near in a position to ‘win.’
The ligaments had recovered just fine, but that bone, man. It was so painful just to walk.
The worst part of it all was that the foot could be completely pain-free for minutes or hours and within one second get to a point where I couldn’t put any pressure on it for 24 hours.
We were talking about surgery, but I was hopeful it would get better without.
Candidly, if I could turn back time, I would have had that surgery.
But, well, I didn’t know what I know now, right?
Fortunately, we still managed to qualify for the NCAAs as my teammates played absolutely amazing tennis.
They all saved that season and allowed our dream to come to life.
In the first round of the NCAAs, we played against #8 North Carolina. I was in the lineup but unfortunately, same scenario, different day.
After less than 30 minutes of singles play, I had to walk off the court.
Regardless, we were thrilled to have left our name in the history books and were eager to repeat our success the following season.
And for me, I was looking forward to the off-season.
The goal was to use those three months to fully recover.
But my foot had other plans.
It didn’t get any better until the very end of the summer.
At that point, I was able to play but always with the fear of that one moment that would force me to stop.
I was a different player on court.
Instead of believing I could beat anyone, my mindset shifted to: “I can’t beat anyone!”.
The highs and lows
Back in Nebraska, I would only win one singles match in the fall.
While it was against a good player from Texas, I had lost four other singles matches and could feel my already low confidence vanish more and more.
I have talked a lot with my coaches and friends but the moment I stepped foot on the court, I was scared of losing.
Scared of failing my goals again.
In college tennis, the whole season matters. Your losses in the fall impact you your whole season and diminish your chances of qualifying for the NCAAs which was one of my big goals.
Your best wins and your worst losses count.
But here I was — mentally struggling like I never have before.
I just had no confidence. At all.
In my body.
In my talent.
In my tennis.
Unfortunately, I have always been a very head-driven person.
It’s just who I am. And it’s always been difficult to get out of my own head.
Either way, I felt I had reached the low point of my career.
Prior to the injury, I was among the top 50 college players in the country, well on my way to qualify for the NCAAs.
Now, I struggled to even win a match.
The first match of the spring season, I played against #23 in the country.
I liked the idea of that as I could play without any pressure.
I lost 62 63, and while I played everything but well, I was at least able to play a full match without any pain in my foot.
The following day, we played against an unranked team that had no ranked singles or doubles players.
Every one on our team won fairly comfortably.
Well, except me.
I lost a close match against someone that has only been playing tennis for a little over five years.
He played an incredibly awkward style and completely broke any sort of rhythm.
Let me put it this way.
If you have no confidence, his style was the worst.
I thought this is it.
I had now truly reached the lowest point.
The next day, coaches switched me and our number #2 guy.
I have been playing out of the #1 spot for a long time and quite frankly, I didn’t deserve that spot at this point.
Heck, not sure I deserved to be in the lineup.
But we played against another unranked team that we were supposed to beat and once again, we did.
Including myself.
I had won my first match in months.
Unfortunately, I was not playing well at all and was simply lucky that my opponent did not play well this day either.
We had a week off before traveling to Stanford where we faced Vanderbilt first.
I was playing out of the #1 spot again against another top #30 player and quickly found myself down 26 13.
I held serve and walked to my bench for the changeover.
And I will never forget this moment.
My assistant coach was sitting there.
Smiling.
He just smiled at me, gives me a little hug, and says: “Oh Aui, (my nickname) everything is going to be fine. I promise!”
He could just sense how tense and uncomfortable I was.
Like, I’m not quite sure how to describe this but I’m sure many athletes in individual sports, in particular, can relate.
You just feel so unhappy out there.
And no one — but yourself — can change it.
When he said those words to me, I don’t know, in that moment, it’s exactly what I needed.
Understanding.
Comfort.
As I was ready to get back on court, he cracked a joke and made me laugh.
Not only did I find a way to win the set, but I ended up winning the match.
It was the turning point of my season.
At this point, I had struggled for almost eight months, and haven’t played a single match I was happy with.
The next day, we faced #8 Stanford where I lost 67 67 against reigning NCAA champion and top-five player in the country, Bradley Klahn.
We battled hard against the Cardinals but came up short.
But that’s not the point of this story.
The point is…
This one single match, those 45 minutes of playing good tennis against Vanderbilt, changed everything.
I gained my confidence back and finished another good season with the Huskers.
We qualified for the NCAAs again, too, where we lost a tough battle to Miami in the first round 3-4.
While I was not able to accomplish my goals as an individual due to the poor performances in the fall and the first few matches of the year, I was still content with my junior season.
The moral of this story is that sometimes, all it takes is a few minutes, sometimes even seconds, to change everything.
Not just in tennis.
I never thought that lightly spraining my ankle in conditioning would eventually result in a serious injury just one month later.
An injury that I am still reminded of occassionally and has completely taken away my confidence for more than eight month.
And then?! 45 minutes of playing good tennis.
It’s all it took to get back on track.
45 minutes.