The Heart of Summer is Berries and Cream

It's berries and cream weekend.

It's the weekend where the shortest grass is well worn with bare spots.

And this version of the Saturday final day was fought by two sisters who put their sibling love aside to fiercely contest the most coveted of trophies in their sport.

I do love Wimbledon. It is the second most prestigious and elegant sporting event, in my book. Second only to golf's The Masters.

I know that tennis has fallen off the North American radar screen, just a small blip as it appears to be wandering off the screen over the horizon in the mind of western culture. But Wimbledon holds an air of legitimate royal legendry. And sports need that level of legitimacy in this era of steroids, corrupt officiating, and the overall consistent contempt shown by professional athletes.

I have always loved tennis since my brother Paul was successful as a junior. I had the joy of being his best rally partner – and the dismay of consistently being beaten by him although I tried my best to better him.

Big brothers are supposed to be better than their little brothers, right?

There is beauty to stand behind a baseline and strike a well hit ball in the heart of the face of the racket driving it hard over the net and the top spin drawing it back down into the opposite side of the court by the base line. The grace of a well struck serve as you toss the ball over your head in a rhythmic movement as your racket swings back behind you - moving in motion to strike the ball with a twisting spin move to curve the ball into a corner of the service line – the racket thrown at the ball in almost the same motion of a pitcher throwing a curveball.

Tennis is a beautiful game of trying to drive the ball to an area of the court where your opponent is not. Trying to guess where your opponent will hit it and moving into position to set your feet to ready your swing to drive the ball back.

I miss it.

And while next year I will be able to play again, that's not enough. Because my brother Paul is not here to play against. He is in Baton Rouge. And in my book, there is playing tennis, but then there is playing tennis against my brother Paul.

There's nothing as fun to me as playing tennis against Paul. Okay, maybe playing golf with Paul.

So when Wimbledon plays out like it did this year, with big sister Venus Williams playing against little sister Serena, I can identify with just how great an experience that would be. And I watch every point. And I love it.

Yes, the Williams sister play at a couple levels higher than either I or Paul, although I strongly think Paul had the potential to get there.

And yes, I do root for Venus – as we older siblings have to stand together against those obnoxiously arrogant younger siblings who teased us until we punched them only to get sent to your room or get grounded.

Damn those younger siblings.

Today Venus won. And I believe her sincerity when she said in the post-match interview that her first responsibility is that of big sister, and to be conscious of her little sister's disappointment so as to not over celebrate her victory.

And that's where Venus is a better older sibling than I am. Because I would have been dancing around that pristine palace of tennis among the royalties of the sport – pointing my finger at my brother and screaming at him "Who's the winner lil' bro?! Who's the winner now!."

And they probably would not have invited me back the next year. And I probably would have gotten sent to my room.

Wimbledon, to me, is the heart of summer.

And the heart of summer is when I miss my little brother Paul the most.

Absolutely Right

When I was a boy, growing up in the southeastern state of Georgia, my Dad would continually pound into the heads of my brother Paul and I the means to achieve a positive outlook on life, and demonstrate to us again and again the kind of doors such an outlook would open for us.

At that time we lived a suburban town of Atlanta called Lawrenceville. It was there that Paul and I grew into teenagers. It was there that we became athletes. Not only did we love sports, but we were very good.

Okay, I know, that sounds egotistical. And I apologize. But this is how we saw ourselves. This is how our Dad taught us to see ourselves. We believed wholly in our hearts that we were and therefore that is what we became.

It started with baseball. And baseball started before we moved to Georgia. As long as I can remember, anytime we came across a ball diamond, we pulled the family car over, got the equipment bag out of the trunk, and held infield, batting, and pitching practice.

We did this for fun. This was our family’s way of having fun together. I still remember slamming long drives and flies out to center and right fields and watching mom get on her horse to get under the ball to make the catches. She would throw the ball back into Paul who was on the mound pitching, and Dad catching behind the plate.

God those days were great.

Dad would pound balls at me at short stop – making me trust me myself that charging the hardest hid grounder was the best way to pick up the ball. Charging hard in, picking up the ball on the short hop, and wheel it to first.

We were both good, we made every all star team, and we knew that we always going to play well. That was what our Dad instilled in us. Confidence in the very skills he taught us.

When Paul started getting good at tennis, Dad used those same principles to instill into Paul that he was good and he could compete with anybody in the State. In the mid-seventies, Atlanta was quite a hotbed for junior tennis, and the competition was fierce. Paul moved his way up the state ladder to reach the top-five. He had the skills, he had confidence in those skills, and he used them to achieve the goals that he set.

Those same principles are still deeply instilled in both my brother and I today.

We both know that there is nothing to hard for us to learn and master. We both know that we can acquire any skill we need to meet any challenge we may face. And we both know that having mastered the skills, the confidence comes naturally.

"So what does this have to do with positive thinking?" You may ask. "Did you get off track again, Fred?"

No, confidence is the core foundation needed to acquire optimism. When you are confident in yourself, in your skills, then you can only be optimistic about the results. You simply know you will succeed.

You will succeed. There is no doubt.

Optimism is the ultimate positive state of thinking.

My Dad had a saying. “If you think you are right, then you are right. You are absolutely right, until you are proven wrong.”

"Huh? You lost me."

Well, let me break it down. If you think you are right about something, and you are a confident person, then you will commit yourself to the decision you believe is right. You will not approach that decision in a wishy-washy manner of “I think this might work”.

That confidence allows that commitment to that decision to be clear in your mind. That clear decision becomes your goal. And you have commitment to your goal. And once you set a goal, you must be absolutely committed. There is no room to waver or second-guess yourself. You are absolutely right, and you must proceed with that commitment to complete that goal.

The part about “until you’re proven wrong” simply means that should your decision be incorrect, meaning your committed to a false goal, you have to understand – identify that you are wrong, accept that you are wrong, and re-align your commitment to your new decision.

To follow this method of thinking will result in ever-deepening confidence in yourself. That ever-growing confidence will inspire greater optimism. That optimism will ultimately conclude in a very positive thinking, self-satisfied person.

The person you want to be.

For all the things that my brother Paul and I have to thank our Dad for, this lesson I believe is the greatest gift I have ever received. While it is difficult – if not impossible – to maintain this state of thinking all the time, it does become easier each time you slip from it to identify that slip, and correct your mental course.

And of this, I am right. I am absolutely right. Until I am proven wrong.