Getting There Early
Woke up way too early for a Tuesday, man. My alarm screamed at 5:30 AM. Coffee? Drank a whole pot, felt like my eyeballs were vibrating. Took the slow train to Lugano, packed with other players. Everyone looked half-asleep or super nervous. Smelled like sweat and deep heat already.
The Court Scene
Got to the complex near that big lake. Place was buzzing! Saw the old casino building folks mentioned – looked like a concrete box honestly, didn’t really care about its song contest history. Needed to find Court 3. Signage sucked, had to ask three different staff wearing the same ugly polo shirt before someone pointed me straight. The courts? Fake grass, felt okay underfoot. Sun was already baking down.
Warm-up felt like a battle:
- Started stretching. Legs felt like old tree trunks.
- Did some serves. First few flew way out. Nerves buzzing.
- Partnered up with this young Italian kid for rallies. Kid moved like lightning. I was huffing like an old train already.
- Saw some officials setting up the net tension. Took forever. Just stood there sweating.
Match Time – Pure Grit
My first match was against Tomas. Big guy, scary serve. Crowd was tiny, just a few folks sitting on fold-out chairs. First set was awful. My returns kept hitting the net. Felt stiff, couldn’t get my legs moving right. Lost 6-2. Pissed me off.
Took a swig of water, told myself to wake the hell up. Second set started better. Got into some brutal rallies – back and forth, back and forth. Running side to side until my lungs burned. Dug out a couple of his smashes purely out of stubbornness. Won a tiebreak! 7-6. Fist pump felt good, I won’t lie.
Third set? Pure pain. Sun was high, no shade. Every step felt heavy. My serve started drifting long again. He broke me early. Tried to fight back, saved two match points. Whole body screaming. Lost the final set 6-4. Wiped out. Shook hands, my shirt was soaked right through.
Aftermath & Swiss Prices
Staggered off court feeling like I’d been run over. Shower pressure sucked – just a sad trickle of lukewarm water. Bought lunch at the little stall near the entrance. Sandwich cost like fifteen francs! Almost choked. Sat by the lake, eating my expensive bread, watching the water. Saw some other guys limping back to the train station. Guess we all got worked today.
Thought about sticking around to watch some pros play later, but my legs voted NO. Loudly. Just wanted my bed. The whole Challenger setup felt a bit thrown together. Qualifiers crammed onto smaller courts, main draw guys getting the show courts. Didn’t really understand half the rules about points or seedings, honestly. Just played.
Train ride home was quiet. Arms aching, legs throbbing, but weirdly satisfied. Even though I lost, just getting through that grind, playing some decent points under pressure… felt like I earned that stiff walk. Lugano makes you work for every point, man. Those hills around the court are no joke either. Views were nice, sure, but my calves definitely noticed. Next time, I’m bringing more snacks. And maybe a masseuse. #BeatenButNotBroken
