Raquet.

Before there was art school for me... there was tennis camp. And tennis lessons. And oh yes... high school tennis team (Varsity co-captain and MVP, thank you very much)...although any skill I may have acquired from all the tennis (more likely I was named captain because of my team spirit than for any legitimate talent at the sport my parents both play well but your grandma could probably beat me...) has long vanished.
But still, my connection to this one sport made me smile at these beautiful videos of the world's top female tennis players on the NY Times website and made me reminisce for my days of leaving class early to ride a bus and sing jock jams with fellow high school girls who otherwise lived on another planet; and days of practicing in the middle school courts with my dad - before nalgene bottles came and went and the internet took over the world - our pasty skinned family sweating in the sun, far less graceful than these ladies, but playing tennis, nonetheless.

My poor parents, enthusiastic from the beginning that I might play a sport they'd be interested in watching were, in the end, banned from watching all of my meets, as I was always too nervous to play in front of them. But if my memory serves me right, I would still swear I caught glimpses of my dad's shadow from under the elm trees at most of the big ones, and he always seemed to know how we'd done before I could tell him...