For my first blog entry, I wrote about my dreadful nickname Rossipoopoo. In that entry, I failed to mention that my coach, and many of the people in which I hit with, consider Rossipoopoo to be my alter-ego, a person completely different from myself. Often, when I play in a tournament, my coach asks me, "Is Rossipoopoo or Sarah going to show up to play today?" At first I laughed at this funny joke in which I did not find to be true, or at all accurate. Then, I slowly came to realize the validity of this statement, and their assessment of my two, completely separate personalities on the court. I do not believe that I suffer from any psychological disorders when I play tennis, but I am no certified professional...Sarah Ross, the name on the tournament draw sheets, quietly sits and waits for her match to start. She greets her opponent kindly, usually reciprocating a warm "hello." Sarah goes about 50 percent in the warm up, conserving her energy for the match to be played. Sarah maintains a calm demeanor throughout the course of the match. She hopes not to show her opponents her frustration, or even fear, as she knows they will feed off of it. When Sarah double faults, she laughs. When Sarah hits an easy shot out or into the net, she brushes it off and focuses on the next point. Sarah barely utters a word during her match, other than calling out the game score, of course . She refuses to question her opponents call, as they usually, and unfortunately, do not change their mind after they hook her. Sarah would never scream out in frustration, or ever think to slam her racquet on the court in anger. Sarah has a winning tournament record. Where has Sarah gone?
Rossipoopoo, the recently established alter-ego, and separate tournament player, acts nothing like the calm and collected Sarah Ross. Rossipoopoo walks into the tournament site, and usually gives her opponent a little glare (as to intimidate them). She wants to win, and carries out what she believes to be intimidating tactics. Rossipoopoo gets a little bit carried away in warm up, and tries to hit the ball as hard as she can (an "intimidation tactic") Really, Rossipoopoo only tires herself for the impending match (now her impending doom, but she believes differently). When Rossipoopoo double faults, she smacks her leg in anger, usually leaving a hand print for the duration of the match. She slams her racquet on the ground when she hits the ball out or in the net. Rossipoopoo usually sticks to her two main calls of frustration, which include "SAR-UH," and "NO-UH." Rossipoopoo always talks to herself after points (a little bit concerning). Needless to say, she went 0-9 one tournament season.
I realize that Sarah and Rossipoopoo hardly parallel the psychological disorder in which Andrew Laitus suffers from in the film Shutter Island. They do not even constitute a psychological disorder for that matter. My tennis instructors and acquaintances simply discovered another way to incorporate Rossipoopoo into my life (great), for the sole purpose of further pestering me. They decided to connect their favorite name Rossipoopoo to my crazy on-court behaviors. I would be a bit concerned if I indeed believed in the existence of this character Rossipoopoo. If I did...would I know?
I think it's very interesting that for you, your nickname represents an alter-ego on the tennis court. In my second blog entry, I talked about the difference between when people call me "Em" and "Emily." I concluded that that the names had nothing to do with my behavior or personality but that the name "Em" merely represented the familiarity between me and the other person. I think it's almost creepy to think, if we did have real alter-ego's, would we realize it? Andrew Laitus certainly did not. What if we are all pretending to be people we really are not?
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