Recreational competition

My first and only title. Bragging rights forever.

By Still in the Rally

Published 9 October 2026

A few years ago, I won my first tennis championship, in beginner men’s doubles. It remains my only title, and I have my partner, Ananda Siregar, to thank for helping me get there.

We had spent time practising together, playing matches and working on what needed improving. Winning the final made all that preparation feel worthwhile.

A partner and a mentor

In my second season of the league, I entered the beginner men’s doubles category with Ananda, a friend I regularly played with.

We were both committed. We practised together and played against other doubles pairs to prepare for the league. He was the better player, and he helped point out areas I needed to improve, particularly my serve and return.

We would take those lessons back to the training court. Having someone who regularly played alongside me helped: he knew my game and could give feedback based on what was happening in our matches.

By the final, that work was paying off. I felt more confident serving and returning, and better able to do my part in the partnership.

A defeat worth remembering

We started from a decent position on the league ladder. Two consecutive wins took us close to the top. Then came a loss, another win, and another loss.

That second defeat would turn out to matter.

We lost in straight sets, quite convincingly. It wasn’t an afternoon from which we could extract much in the way of bragging rights. We did, however, get a good look at how our opponents played and how they had beaten us.

A few weeks later, we would meet them again in the final.

Getting there still took some work. We climbed back up the ladder, and on the final day of the league stage, beat the eighth-placed pair to secure our place in the quarter-finals.

By the semi-final, friends and relatives were coming to watch.

It started to feel bigger. I wanted to win anyway, but having people turn up to support us added another layer of pressure. These were still beginner matches. They mattered quite a lot to the beginners playing them.

A game plan for the final

I remember perhaps a hundred people watching the final that night, most of them supporting our opponents.

Across the net were the same two players who had beaten us comfortably a few weeks earlier. I was nervous. We had a game plan, though, and my part was straightforward: avoid giving points away through unforced errors.

Ananda’s responsibilities included pressuring the opposition and hitting winners. A slightly longer job description.

As my nerves settled, I began to feel the benefit of the preparation. I was more confident serving and returning. I could stay in a rally without feeling I had to produce something spectacular to justify my place on court.

Those sessions working on the basics had given me something I could use in the final. I didn’t need a different game for the occasion. I needed to trust the parts we had been practising.

At our level, keeping the ball in play and making the opponents hit another shot was proving more effective than trying to summon a Hollywood winner out of nowhere.

We edged the first set 7–6(6).

By the skin of our teeth, but it counted all the same.

One volley wide

With the first set secured, the momentum seemed to shift towards us.

We led 2–1 in the second set, then won the next three games. At 5–1, we were one break away from a championship I hadn’t expected to win when we entered.

Then it was 15–40 on our opponents’ serve.

Ananda hit the shot. The opponent’s volley went wide.

That was it.

I remember the elation more clearly than anything I could have said. After the training, the league matches, the earlier defeat and the nerves that night, we had actually done it.

Medal secured. Bragging rights secured.

What I took home

We took home the championship medal. We had put time into preparing, worked our way into the playoffs, and beaten a pair who had comfortably beaten us earlier in the season.

Ananda and I had different roles in the final, and we both followed the plan. He put pressure on our opponents while I focused on keeping my serves and returns reliable and avoiding unnecessary errors. It wasn’t spectacular tennis from me, but it helped us win.

As far as I remember, Ananda went on to win a couple more singles tournaments. I haven’t won another championship since.

I hope there will be another one. For now, I’m glad we had that night—and that we have the photos to remember it.

The bragging rights are still valid, of course.

Read how my tennis journey began, or what two different coaches taught me.