My limited experience of Korean tennis has taken place in the mountains (where I work) and at one tournament in the city. Overall, it has been most surprising, decidedly enjoyable and a little strange, to say the least.
When I arrived at my main school in a little village in the mountains, it was winter and not very pretty. The school is relatively small, with the big field in front and outbuildings at the back, where teachers can stay overnight. The caretaker of the school stays there permanently. There are also the "toilets". What I did notice was a dilapidated old gravel tennis court behind the janitor’s house. I assumed that no one used the court anymore and that it had been left to ruin.
March and most of April passed by in flurry of stress, miscommunication and traveling. I hadn’t thought of tennis at all. After all, I hadn’t really played in England and I suppose I hadn’t expected to play much in Korea either. But in mid-April as the blossoms began to show and the trees and grass got a little greener, I noticed some of the teachers heading over to the tennis court. Next thing, they were rolling the court (which is literally made of sand, similar to beach sand) over and over to compress the soil. Then, the net went up (it is far too high but there is nowhere to attach it at the centre) and the lines were painted with chalk. I couldn’t believe it.
The men obviously assumed I didn’t play tennis, for when I told them I could, they were incredibly excited! I still don’t think they thought I could actually play properly, for when I hit the court one day, all the students were allowed to come and watch me for a few minutes. This never happens in Korea. Academics come first, always, no exceptions. So this must have been a BIG deal. The next day, the teachers even started to call me “Tennis Ace” in the corridors.
When we first started to play tennis after lessons, the other teachers were very rusty. But over time and with much practice, everyone has greatly improved. The music teacher has a ‘killer’ volley and smashing skills; the Korean teacher is a master of touch and with practice, has clearly shown he is by far the best player at the school; the vice principal must have been brilliant in his heyday, he still has the forehand to show for it; the math teacher is young and keen to learn, he picked up the backhand slice after only a few attempts. He has a wonderful style.
In the last few weeks, my main co-teacher, who is just starting out, bought a new Babolat racquet. The school bought a box of tennis balls the other day. And the head teacher and sport teacher headed off into the mountains yesterday and came back with a truckload of red clay to add to our “beach court” (as I affectionately name it).
The court is obviously very uneven as we do not have professionals rolling and measuring for us. In some places, the balls bounce and in others, they do not. If it rains, the ground is saturated and actually dangerous to play on. We do, anyway. As I said, the net is about 10 inches too high and there are no proper fences so the balls get lost on a regular basis. But as the vice principal says: “Same conditions for all!” And so we get on with it.
At the end of April, my school entered six of us into the Pohang City interschool tournament. My little school had great aspirations with me on the team but unfortunately, it was a doubles tournament and I couldn’t win alone, although the Korean teacher and I came very close. (Doubles seems to be the main form of the game, probably due to the lack of tennis courts)
I was one of three women present and the only foreigner. This created much fuss and it also meant that there were many people watching our court. My mother and a few others will know that I am not very good under pressure and even worse when there are people watching. I managed to keep my cool though and I played a good game. We may have even won our second match if we had played the usual ‘best of three sets’ format.
Korean tennis etiquette is truly something to behold and is probably my favourite part of tennis in this country. When both couples are ready to commence the match, all four players walk to the net and bow and shake hands as a sign of respect for each other. On completing the set, all four players walk to the net and bow and shake hands once more.
There is no such thing as the spinning of the racquet (rough or smooth, up or down, W or M, p or d). One person from each couple with do “rock, paper, scissors” to determine the winner. The winner can then choose to serve of receive. Whichever side you warmed/knocked up on, that is the side you remain on. Before serving the first ball of every game, the server will greet the receiver when he serves to them: “Annyeong-haseyo!” (Good day!/ Hello!) I suppose this is similar to what I would say at home: “Enjoy the match!”
The scoring is my favourite. In tennis scoring, we use “fifteen, thirty, forty, deuce, advantage”. If we are to shorten the score when playing social, we use the abbreviations “five-thirty”, “thirty-forts”, “your ad” etc. Here in Korea, they say (and it makes much more sense, if you ask me) “fi-thir”, “for-thir”, “service” (server’s advantage) and “receive” (reciever’s advantage).
Thank goodness I can play tennis. It has saved my soul here in the mountains. Sometimes, I’ll only play once a week (as most of my lessons are in the late afternoon right before we go home) or sometimes, I shan’t play at all. But sport, like music, is common ground. It is a form of communication all by itself. I always say it and I shall say it again; without sport (and in particular, the game of tennis), I would have far less wonderful memories and far less friends…
