IJCH - Inside JaiChai's Head
(Meaning: My warped, personal opinions and musings)
From the Author
Salutations.
I am JaiChai.
And if I haven't had the pleasure to make your acquaintance, I'm delighted to meet you now.
Growing Up Differently -
When I was a kid, I practically lived in dojos, then played Little League baseball and ran cross-country until I realized that I liked individual sports better.
On summer break, I taught myself how to play tennis - no coach, no lessons from a teaching pro, just hours upon hours of hitting the tennis ball with anyone (or against a wall) day after day - and literally went from beginner to a tournament player after that one summer.
Unbeknownst to my parents, I had become USTA (United States Tennis Association) ranked in the juniors within a year.
They didn't even know that I was exempt from Physical Education and Health classes; and permitted to leave school two hours early to practice.
Both my parents worked full-time and my older sister was always busy doing her own thing.
So, unless I could catch a ride with another player's family (which was very seldom, if ever) I had to take buses to and from tournaments alone.
My parents only supported school academics.
They were not very keen on art, sports, music - basically everything that I considered fun. They only tolerated my "waste of time" hobbies because I kept my grades up.
Consequently, I worked (illegally because of my age) as a busboy, then waiter, then eventually as a short order cook to pay for my tennis equipment, sports clothes, tennis shoes and tournament entry fees.
Fortunately, after my ranking got high enough, a few companies took care of the entry fees and gave me free rackets, tennis balls, shoes and clothes.
THEN ONE DAY, MY DAD COMES TO WATCH ME PLAY - FINALLY!
I can't describe how much that meant to me.
My mother never came to my tournaments and my sister used my tournaments as an excuse to secretly be somewhere else.
What happened?
I was the Second Seed of the tennis tournament. That meant I was supposed to make it to the finals.
My father knew nothing about tennis and didn't even know how to keep score.
But he still watched intently from the bleachers - AS I LOST IN THAT QUARTER FINALS MATCH!
He was completely without a clue that I had lost the match - probably because the whole gallery gave a standing ovation (mostly for my opponent) when the match was over.
After I shook hands with my opponent, gathered my gear and left the court, my Dad smiled and gave me a big hug.
Somehow, just because my Dad had watched me play, I really didn't care that I lost that day - I knew my Dad loved me.
How did I know this?
Simply because he was there...
Parting Shot -
By JaiChai
Thanks for stopping by.
Truly hope to see you again!
About the Author
He is a retired U.S. Military veteran. Believing that school was too boring, he dropped out of High School early; only to earn an AA, BS and MBA in less than 4 years much later in life – while working full-time as a Navy/Marine Corps Medic.
In spite of a fear of heights and deep water, he freefall parachuted out of airplanes and performed diving ops in very deep, open ocean water.
He spends his days on an island paradise with his teenage daughter, longtime girlfriend and three dogs.