Canon's Diary

At eight in the evening, after finishing work, I stood on a brightly lit indoor court.

I gripped the racket handle with my right hand and placed my left hand on the throat. Leaning slightly forward, I waited. As the serve was struck, I matched its timing with both legs and stepped in. I opened my right side into the takeback and gauged the distance to the ball with my left hand. Pushing off the ground with my back foot, I rotated my lower body and accelerated the racket. I caught the ball at the center of the racket face. Driving it forward, I struck through it, keeping my face at the point of contact, and followed through with a smooth, fluid motion. Even before I hit the ball, I can already see the next move. I move instantly to where the return will come and read my opponent’s motion.

When I make these movements, my body operates almost unconsciously. As I continue practicing, unnecessary tension falls away, and my movements quietly settle into place. Muscles, joints, core, and balance—everything gathers into a single, unified sensation. My mind is as still as a water surface without ripples.

After practice, I do my cool-down stretches alone in the locker room. I warm the back of my neck under the shower, then finish with cold water. The heat in my body slowly fades.

The next morning, fatigue remains in my body, yet my mind is clear enough to face work.

I have entered a tournament this weekend. A typhoon is said to be approaching. It will probably be canceled. Even so, I continue preparing. That is the way I always do things.