This Page About Tennis, Wheelchairs and Dual Hand Luke

Tennis, Wheelchairs and Dual Hand Luke

Fresh off of an eight week advanced tennis class, I thought I was ready for prime-time.

When I first signed up for the class, I was a little apprehensive since the only time I really played any tennis was for a two-week stint during Wimbledon when I was in sixth grade. However, after a very successful run through the advanced class, I was ready for a bigger challenge.

So, when we got a press release about Skyline Sport & Health holding "A Day of Tennis with Luke Jensen," I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to put my new skills to the test.

A chance to learn and play against the 1993 French Open doubles title winner? Shoot, I just aced an advanced tennis class, I was ready to go against a pro. I grabbed my two-month-old, top-of-the-line Target-bought racket and headed to the club.

When I walked in, I was a little overwhelmed. This wasn't anything like the community courts where I took my lessons. There were no cracks in the court, the nets weren't frayed, and none of the lights were burnt out.

But, what worried me the most was that all of the other players looked good. I was one of, if not the, youngest person there, yet somehow, I suspected every last one of these people could whoop me on the court.

Just as I was contemplating turning around and chalking this one up as a loss, the Live Wire media relations woman spotted me. Before introducing me to Luke, she told me about the brand new, expensive, super-racket she just bought her 17-year-old son. As I nodded, I could feel my face turn red as I tried to cover up my $24.99 racket with my coat. Suddenly, the only thing I had going for me, my new racket, wasn't so hot.

I was then introduced to the man himself, Luke Jensen.

His nickname is "Dual Hand Luke" for his ability to serve both right and left handed at speeds of 130 miles per hour. In addition to the clinic's drills, he was offering a chance to return one of his serves for a chance to win his 2006 US Open tickets.

"Are you going to participate in the clinic?" Luke asks me. I hesitate at first, thinking of telling him I was just there to take pictures and notes, but then he spots my racket. "Nice stick!" he says as he picks it up and twirls it around. I'm not sure if he's being serious or just trying to make me feel better. As I look around the room, everyone else's racket is half the size of mine and not one looks like it came from Target. Apparently, the better the player, the smaller the racket. Mine was huge, Luke's looked slightly bigger than a ping pong paddle.

Eager to change the subject, I ask him about the "Return Jensen's Serve" portion of the clinic.

"Well, the first thing first is safety," he says. "We make sure nobody gets hurt."

Hurt from a serve? I couldn't see how anyone could get hurt from a tennis serve, even if it was coming from Dual Hand Luke and a fancy, expensive racket.

When I asked him if, indeed, anybody had gotten hurt during his clinic, he told me about the time a player in a wheelchair wanted to try and return his serve.

"It was like a car accident. Everything was in slow motion. The ball nailed him in the chest and knocked him right out of his chair."

Goodness.

"He was alright and got right back up," Luke said.

While I was glad the story had a happy ending, the fact remains: the guy can knock people out of chairs with his serve.

This did nothing for my confidence, which was now, lower than ever.

As the clinic started, I kept my racket under my coat and resigned myself to taking pictures on the sidelines. I snapped, took notes, and chatted with the Sport & Health tennis pros patrolling the courts. (Pros? No wonder the club members were good. My class was taught by a woman who alternated between giving tennis and piano lessons.)

All was going well, until Luke yelled from across the courts. "Jody! Put the camera down and grab your racket!"

So much for making it through the clinic strictly from the sidelines.

"Ok, Shakespeare," he says to me, "We're gonna work on attacking the net."

Next thing I know, I'm running up and down the court returning balls. Luke offers me some pointers, shows me how to hold the racket, what angles to work, and other techniques. This was nothing like my tennis class. It was better.

After running through a few more drills, it was time for Return Jensen's Serve.

With the images of a man being hammered out of a wheelchair still fresh in my mind, I returned my racket to its hiding place and grabbed the camera.

I wasn't going to be the one getting pelted with a tennis ball, but maybe someone else would.

For the competition, Luke offers up two serves: the "Monster," the 120+ mile per hour serve, and the "Mercy," a slower serve but with spin and slice. In Round 1, players only had to get a piece of his serve, in Round 2, they had to return it over the net (out shots counted). In Round 3, it had to make it in one of two courts, and then, in Round 4, they had to get it in just one.

The contest went pretty quick. After Round 2, there were only a handful of players left. Luke kept slamming the serves home with both hands, and player after player kept whiffing. (Who'd like a jumbo racket now?) In the end, a quiet woman in a pink shirt was the last one standing and dubbed the winner of the US Open tickets.

As the players packed up and left, I shook Luke's hand and thanked him for the opportunity. In the span of less than two hours, I had learned more that I had in the previous eight weeks in, what I now refer to now as, my "so called" advanced class.

As I drive off, regaining more and more nerve, I start to regret the fact that I didn't try to return his serve. But then, as quickly as it came, my courage evaporates as I realize that a wheelchair guy's chest is on the same level as a standing guy's groin. Continue to learn more about tennis, please visit Falls Church News-Press.

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