Court Side Glow Up

My summer was supposed to be vibing at home, rotting in bed, and maybe finally starting that podcast I'd been talking about since February. Instead, my mom signed me up for counselor training at the community center. "It'll look good on college apps," she said. "You'll make friends," she said.

She failed to mention I'd be assigned to teach padel—a sport I'd literally just learned existed that morning.

"Just hit the ball, Chase," whispered Marcus, the other counselor, who was basically athletic royalty at our school. His chill energy made everything look effortless. Meanwhile, I was out here giving a tutorial on a sport I'd Googled in the parking lot.

The campers, a pack of twelve-year-olds with way too much energy, watched me expectantly.

"So... it's like tennis but shorter?" I tried.

"Coach Chase," groaned Lily, the smallest but somehow most intimidating of the bunch. "You're overthinking it. Just send it."

I didn't even know what that meant, but I nodded like it was genius. "Exactly. Send it."

By the second week, something weird happened—I started actually getting good. My backhand wasn't embarrassing anymore. Marcus fist-bumped me after a particularly solid rally, and I felt my chest glow with that specific kind of validation you only get when someone cool acknowledges your existence.

Then came swimming day.

The community pool was basically social warfare. The popular kids claimed the deep end. The chaos demons dominated the shallow end with splash attacks. And then there was the lane designated for "serious swimming"—aka where the swim team kids did their laps with terrifying efficiency.

I'd always been self-conscious about my swimming. I wasn't bad, exactly, just... mid. But Lily couldn't swim at all, and she was mortified about it.

"Everyone's gonna think I'm a baby," she muttered, arms crossed, sitting on the pool edge.

I sat beside her. "Look, I can't actually do a flip turn without looking like a drowning turtle. And that's fine. We'll stay in the shallow end and work on basics. No shame in the game."

"You'd do that? Instead of hanging with Marcus and the cool counselors?"

"Marcus is cool, but he doesn't appreciate my padel wisdom. Let's get you floating."

We spent forty-five minutes practicing glides and bubble blowing. By the end, she could doggy-paddle to the ladder without panicking. The genuine pride on her face hit different than any like or follow I'd ever gotten.

The real test came during the end-of-summer showcase. Parents everywhere. I was supposed to demonstrate padel with Marcus, but he'd twisted his ankle in basketball the day before.

"I can't do this alone," I told the program director, who everyone called Bear behind his back because the man was literally six-foot-four and perpetually looked like he was evaluating your entire existence.

"You got this, kid," Bear said, clapping a hand on my shoulder that nearly knocked me over. "Sometimes you gotta just bear down and show 'em what you've got. Cringe is temporary. Glory is forever."

I didn't know Bear could speak like a fortune cookie, but here we were.

I ended up doing the demo with Lily as my partner. We weren't perfect—we missed serves, my form was questionable, and she giggled through half the rallies—but something clicked. The parents cheered. Bear gave me a nod that actually looked genuine. Marcus watched from the sidelines, grinning.

Afterward, Lily handed me a drawing she'd made—a stick figure version of me mid-serve, with "COACH CHASE SENDS IT" written in bubble letters.

"Thanks for not making me feel lame," she said.

"You carried us out there," I told her, and I meant it.

That night, I posted a picture of me holding the drawing, paddle still in hand, hair damp from the post-showcase swimming celebration. Caption: "Worst summer ever? Debatable. Best summer ever? Also debatable. But definitely not the mid-est."

Marcus commented first: "Bro's padel game went from NPC to main character energy fr fr 🔥"

I smiled at my phone, already kind of excited for next summer, and typed back: "bear with me, I'm just getting started."