"Tennis [is] like chess
on the run, beautiful and infinitely dense. The true opponent,
the enfolding boundry, is the player himself. Always and only
the self out there, on court, to be met, fought, brought to the
table, to hammer out the terms. The competing boy, on the net's
other side: he is not the foe: he is more the partner in dance.
He is, what is the word, excuse or occasion for meeting the
self. As you are his occasion. Tennis' beauty's infinite roots
are self-competitive. You compete with your own limits to
transcend the self in imagination and execution. Disappear
inside the game: break through the limits: transcend: improve:
win. . . . You seek to vanquish and transcend the limited self
whose limits make the game possible in the first place. It is
tragic and sad and chaotic and lovely. All life is the same, as citizens
of the human State."
--- David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
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