Clear the baseline

I pushed past the front gate and jogged out to the neighborhood tennis courts for an afternoon perimeter sweep. Right against the bottom of the chain-link divider, a heavy, weathered felt tennis ball had wedged tightly between the wire mesh and an abandoned wooden clipboard, pinning a score sheet flat in the dirt. An obstructed court compromises the whole drill. Direct problem, direct response. I planted my boots firmly onto the gritty green court surface, dropped into a disciplined power squat, and drove both forearms under the compressed rubber seam. With one continuous surge through my hips, I popped the ball loose. It bounced true across the white baseline. I stood the clipboard upright against the steel post. Court reclaimed and primed for play.