Break Point: Ballard High School's New Age Tennis Coach and the Bad News Beavers

"I want a sexy one!"

The Ballard High School girls' tennis team has just demolished Juanita High 9-0, sweeping all six singles matches and three doubles matches, but junior Zoe Cross-Karras isn't interested in reveling in the win. Instead, with a barely disguised grin, she wants Aaron Silverberg, the first-year coach of the Beavers, to read another poem from his self-published book. Much of the bus ride back to school has consisted of Silverberg reciting verse as the 11 varsity girls try to keep straight faces. Silverberg, oblivious to the exchanged glances and rolling eyes, flips through a few pages until he finds the one he wants.

"OK, are you ready for the spiritual/sensual poem of the year?" he asks.

"Yeah!" Zoe shouts, as senior doubles specialist Flora Anderson sinks lower in her seat and draws the hood of her sweatshirt over her face.

Love soaked bodies

like pound-cake

dunked in milk,

saturated

to the surrender point

"Aaron's bringing sexy back," senior co-captain Mikaela Louie jokes.

"Read another racy one!" Zoe demands.

"Here we go," Silverberg says. "This one's to God."

Drinking you in.

Melting you under

my tongue.

Touching you the way

the sea strokes

the shoreline

every few seconds...

"Was that sexy enough?" Silverberg asks.

"No!"

"Jeez, how much sexier can I get?" Silverberg says. "Hey, what's the difference between full-blown spirituality and full-blown sexuality?"

The girls shrug and exchange quizzical glances. "Well, what's the answer?" senior co-captain Neah Ortman asks.

"None," Silverberg says. "Our worship for each other is the same for God. Read Rumi. His poems are no different for God and for people."

"More poems!" Neah hollers.

The 50-year-old Silverberg obliges, delighted that the girls have taken such a keen interest in one of his many hobbies. A life coach by profession, Silverberg is the picture of the modern-day Renaissance man. He played collegiate tennis while obtaining a bachelor's degree in philosophy, bookended that with a master's in computer science, and enjoyed a lucrative career as a software engineer. Now, when he isn't helping his clients become fully actualized individuals, he's writing poetry, recording flute music, or tending to his organic vegetable garden in Wedgwood.

Silverberg signed on as the Ballard coach in February, the third coach in four years for a school with little tradition of tennis success. But Silverberg, who also worked as the head tennis pro for a Chicago club, saw great potential in the girls, and aimed to not only turn them into champions but also empower them with the life skills they would need as they bade farewell to their childhoods. On paper, the girls and the self-proclaimed "Buddhist tennis coach" seemed like a perfect match.

"I've got a joke for you guys," Silverberg announces. "What do Buddhist children say on a long car trip?"

"Nothing?" offers Mikaela.

"Nope. They say, 'It's OK, we're already there!'"

The girls groan.

On an unseasonably warm, sunny day in early April, Silverberg runs his team through practice on Ballard High's tennis courts. Over the din of a construction crew across the street, he shouts instruction to the players. "Stop and pop," he says, imploring one girl to split step when her hitting partner strikes the ball. "Close the window shade," he tells the doubles team on the next court, reminding them to rush the net as a team. "Fast back, easy out," he says, trying to teach the tempo for a ground stroke. When all the moving parts work in concert to produce an especially fine shot, he shouts, "Nice!" and flashes a thumbs-up.

But it's the last practice before spring break, and the girls are preoccupied with things besides tennis. During their rallies, they keep up a steady patter of conversation, pausing only to announce the score or hit the ball. They spend most of the water break comparing tan lines.

"This is girl time," Silverberg says, waiting with a bemused expression. "They don't want to be rushed."

The girls eventually pick up their racquets and return to the courts. But just a few minutes after practice resumes, junior Lucy Miner freezes in the middle of her serve. "Oh. My. God," she says, zeroing in on a trio of muscular, shirtless, blond construction workers walking to their truck.

"Are you serious?" Neah says.

"I was wondering if anyone else saw that," chimes in junior Julia Canty.

"I did," Lucy breathes.

"Ow!" Neah squeals. "One of us should definitely get their numbers before this week is over."

Silverberg overhears the conversation and halts play. "Focus on tennis," he lectures. "Don't deplete your sexual energy on those guys, or anything else. None of that shit. That's out. You're samurai."

The season began in February at the Starbucks at 71st and Greenlake, not far from the Lower Woodland tennis courts where the Beavers play their home matches. There, the newly minted coach sat down with senior captains Neah, Mikaela, and Natasha Kelly to discuss goals and expectations for the upcoming season. Silverberg, who coached one season at Ingraham High five years ago, had learned about the opening at Ballard from a friend and figured why not. "Might as well do my community service," he says.