My Favorite Tennis Player

People often ask me who my favorite tennis player is, and the answer always surprises them. It’s not Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal.

It’s my son, Hudson.

Hudson grew up on the side of a tennis court. He was born around the same time I fell in love with the game, so tennis wasn’t just a sport in our house. It was woven into the rhythm of our lives.

He started playing at an age when most kids are still figuring out how to tie their shoes. And from the beginning, it was obvious he had something special. Part of it was his natural athleticism. Part of it was the sheer amount of time he spent around the game. Whatever the reason, he got good fast.

When he was five years old, he was invited into the high-performance group at our tennis club, and he fit right in. At that age, all he wanted to do was play tennis. During the summers, I would drop him off at tennis camp at eight in the morning and pick him up at four in the afternoon. Most kids would be exhausted, but Hudson would ask if he could stay longer so he could play an extra pick-up match with a buddy. Looking back, that’s probably what I remember most. Not the trophies or rankings. Just a kid who genuinely loved being out there.

Tennis is a year-round sport, and tournaments were played several weekends each month in cities across Texas. We would hop in the car on a Friday, and if we were lucky, drive home after the finals on Sunday. Somewhere along the way, we started calling those trips “peanut butter/jelly time.” Hudson was the peanut butter to my jelly, and those weekends became our thing. Looking back, those weekends may be what I cherish most.

The success came quickly. He won tournaments. Then he won bigger tournaments. He quickly worked his way from competitor, to champ, and then to superchamp. Back then, superchamps were the best of the best. The players everyone knew were headed somewhere.

The thing about sports is that from the outside, progress often looks inevitable. You see the results and assume the path is straight. It never is.

In eighth grade, Hudson broke his ankle playing flag football. Suddenly, the game that had been such a huge part of his life was gone. He couldn’t train. He couldn’t compete. He couldn’t do the thing he loved.

Eventually, he healed and came back to tennis. But something was different.

Whether it was the injury, the time away, or simply a shift in priorities that comes with growing up, he wasn’t the same player when he returned. Not because he wasn’t talented. He was. But the spark had changed.

As he headed into high school, he wanted something different. He wanted to do what his friends were doing. He wanted Friday night lights, basketball games, and all the experiences that come with being a teenager. He threw himself into basketball and left tennis behind.

I’ll admit it. It broke my heart a little. Not because I needed him to become a tennis player. Not because I had some dream of college scholarships or professional tours.

I just loved watching him play. I loved seeing him compete. I loved the early mornings, the long tournament weekends, and the countless miles we logged together across Texas. I loved sharing something that meant so much to both of us.

But now he’s in college, and I can see what I couldn’t see back then. Had he stayed on the tennis path, he likely would have missed much of the high school experience he ended up loving. The friendships. The team sports. The memories that come from simply being a kid. And if he’d continued all the way through college tennis, he might have missed the college experience he’s enjoying now.

He’s exactly where he should be. I know that.

Still, when he recently sent me this photo from a tennis court, I had to smile. There was Hudson, hitting tennis balls again.

For a few seconds, I catch a glimpse of the little boy who never wanted to leave camp, who stayed after practice for “just one more set,” who represented Texas, and collected a truckload of tournament medals and trophies.

Then, just for a moment, I wonder what might have been. Not because I wish things had turned out differently. But because my favorite tennis player picked a different path.