Why I Coach High School Tennis

Written By

Bob Anderman

RSPA Master Tennis Professional, Glenelg High School Tennis Coach

Late February marks the beginning of another high school tennis season and the annual meeting with students planning to try out for the team. As I scan the group of about 50 boys and girls, I recognize roughly 15 from last year’s roster. That is encouraging. It means there is a core already in place, a foundation to build upon.

This is the fourth high school program I have coached, a journey that began in 1974. Much has changed since those early days. Back then, boys and girls competed in separate seasons. Today, they share the same spring season and compete as one team. Matches consist of eight-game sets, allowing for 16 matches to be played after school, usually beginning around 4 p.m. and finishing close to 7 pm. In our county, teams play at least 16 matches during the regular season, followed by county, regional, and state tournaments. The first match typically arrives by the third week of March — often around March 21.

Preparation time is limited. With unpredictable weather, we average only four practices per week out of a possible six. That leaves little time to get ready. Attendance fluctuates as players juggle spring plays, concerts, SAT prep, school trips and countless other obligations. Yet every day, my volunteer assistant coaches and I show up, working to shape a team despite cold winds, gray skies, and courts that rarely feel welcoming.

So why do we coach?

Coaching high school tennis is one of those rare experiences where a passion for the sport meets the opportunity to shape young lives. As Coach John Wooden once said, “You get to touch lives, you get to make a difference. You get to do things for people who will never pay you back.”

It is not simply about teaching forehands and backhands. It’s about witnessing transformation. I think of those first practices, when freshmen step nervously onto the court, hands shaking as they toss the ball to serve. The racket swings awkwardly and often misses, yet the courage to try again matters more than any perfect shot. In those moments, I see reflections of my own beginnings and I’m reminded that growth always starts with uncertainty.

Then come the breakthroughs; the clean, crisp sound of a well-struck ball spinning across the net. A smile spreads across a player’s face, signaling more than technical success. It is the discovery of confidence, of belief. These victories may seem small, but they are monumental. They are the heartbeat of coaching.

Team spirit brings its own rewards. Although tennis is often viewed as an individual sport, high school tennis becomes a shared experience. Laughter fills bus rides, encouragement travels across the sidelines and doubles partners find a rhythm that feels almost musical. That camaraderie, more than wins or losses, binds players together long after the season ends.

Losses also carry powerful lessons. Shoulders slump and tears fall, but resilience slowly takes their place. Tennis teaches players how to fail and, more importantly, how to recover. In those moments, I am not just a coach. I am a mentor, sometimes a confidant, sometimes simply a steady presence. Their trust becomes the greatest victory of all.

There are small moments that linger: tying shoelaces before practice, the rhythm of warm-up drills, the way the setting sun stretches shadows across the courts. These ordinary details form the quiet poetry of coaching.

Beyond the game, I watch athletes carry discipline into their classrooms, kindness into friendships and courage into life. Tennis is only the beginning. Years later, when former players reach out — not to talk about wins, but to say thank you for believing in them — I am reminded that the true legacy of coaching is measured in character, not championships.

In the end, the fulfillment is quiet but profound. Standing at the edge of the court, I know the joy is not found in trophies or records, but in witnessing growth and being part of each player’s journey. Coaching high school tennis is a privilege. An opportunity to shape lives through a game that becomes so much more than a game.