The Life of Scott
Living, Working and Parenting in the US
👋 Hello Amigos! Dr. Molina here 👨🔧
Today marks the end of the quarter for me. I’m taking a few days off to rest and reflect.
I’m well-equipped: a great book (Fahrenheit 451), Leiva’s new album Gigante, and a two-and-a-half-year-old daughter ready to build towers with toy animals.
It’s been a long and intense quarter. The results have been surprisingly good, but I can feel the mental toll on my shoulders. Thank goodness my soccer team, Barça, is doing very well 🤣.
Today, I want to share a little story that I found amusing.
Since playing football is hazardous to my health, tennis is the only sport I practice. To stay consistent, I signed up for a local league in San Francisco after moving here. I’m usually between the top two divisions, which led me to meet Scott (not his real name… 😅).
Chapter 1: Scott appears
At the start of the latest season, a new guy popped into the league's WhatsApp group. His first message looked something like this:
“Hi guys! Just joined the league, very excited to play with you all! LET’S GO!”
And soon after, more and more checkmark emojis started showing up. ✅
I thought it was just... curious. Nothing more.
Chapter 2: First Match
The day came to play. I showed up five minutes late, and there was Scott: white guy, blond, wearing pro tennis gear, about 45–50 years old, with a movie-poster smile.
He clearly resented my being late, and it got worse when he saw I hadn’t brought new balls. With a dramatic gesture of forgiveness, he pulled out a new can and opened it.
We headed to the court.
And this is when things got interesting.
Scott pulls out resistance bands and starts warming up: arms, shoulders, legs... even leaning on the net for stretches. Meanwhile, I stand in the middle of the court, looking hopeless.
In my head:
“This guy thinks we’re on the ATP tour. I have 90 minutes before I need to be home bathing my daughter.”
Then Scott looks at me and says:
“You should warm up. You could injure yourself or not be in top condition to play.”
I thank him for the advice and do the lazy-man run around the court while he keeps going full Schwarzenegger.
Chapter 3: The match begins
We started playing. Scott begins slowly and later tells me that’s his thing—he builds confidence over time. After the first 20 minutes, it’s 4-2 for him. I still feel hopeful.
But I didn’t realize Scott had been pacing himself, and at just the right moment, he shifted into 80% power (He will tell me this data later). From then on, I only won one more game.
I shook his hand at the net, stormed home, and asked the league organizer to drop me down a level.
Chapter 4: The comeback
Weeks went by. I won every match in the lower division. One day, while at the park with my daughter, I saw Scott giving tennis lessons.
I thought, it’s time to play him again, and I texted him:
“Hey Scott, I saw you give lessons. Want to play a match?”
He replied:
“Of course! Just let me know when. I’ve been winning every match, I even got $1,500 in prize money!”
Right before our match, he reminded me again:
“I’ve made over $300,000 giving tennis lessons! And now I’m playing on the center court in Miami at nationals.”
It’s 7 AM. I just want to play.
Chapter 5: The coach
I know what I’m in for this time. I lost the first set 6-1, but it feels like a decent effort.
In the second set, down 5-0, and with only three points to my name, I crack and ask:
“Scott, are you doing this on purpose?”
He smiles wide, and says:
“Of course, Chima! (Yes, he pronounces my name different...)”
We finished the match and sit down. Then Scott says:
“So... are you going to pay me?”
Boom. It hits me. When I messaged him about his lessons, he thought I was booking one. That’s was my fault not asking…
A beatdown and a bill. Perfect.
“Uh… sure. How much?”
“$100.” - say Scott
“Fine, but at least give me some tips.” - I replied
“Once you pay me.” - Big smile again
So I paid him. Then he stands up, serious, and only speaks if I look him in the eye. If I bend down to pick up a ball, he pauses until I make eye contact again.
“Chima, you looks in good shape. But how often do you work out?”
The gym, for me, is what I do when I’m injured, it’s raining, or I’m sad and want to feel stronger than vinegar.
“Maybe once every two weeks?”
“That’s not enough. For this match, I’ve been in the gym every day this week (it’s Friday), and yesterday I did two hours straight.”
There’s a pause. I noded:
“Wow.”
He continued:
“First thing you’re going to do: hit the gym twice a week. You’ll improve your game by 25% instantly.”
That’s it. End of the tips. That’s when I started mentally writing this post.
I asked if he could drop me off at the nearest bike station. On the way, I asked:
“Scott, do you have lessons today?”
“I’ve got a lot of money in crypto. I don’t need to work.”
“Right… but do you have any lessons?”
“A couple. Clients from KPMG. They pay me $180 an hour.”
He drops me off. We say goodbye.
I’ll keep you posted about Scott and his stories.
If you liked it, share it with your friends; it’s the best way to support me :).