Last night on the tennis court, I saw a side of myself that I don’t particularly like. In both the second set and the third-set tiebreaker, I saw myself acting like a coward.

In the first set, I was aggressive, going for my shots without fear or hesitation. But once we won the first set, easily, I might add, at 6-1, I began to worry about losing. And once the doubts set in, I stopped playing on all cylinders.

I started going for the easy, safe shots. I started playing to “not miss”. And you cannot win that way. Both tennis and fortune favor the bold.

In tennis, this behavior is called “protecting your lead”. Everyone knows that this method does not produce victories. And yet, it’s hard not to behave that way when you’re under pressure. The commentators say only champions hit harder on the pressure points. They also say it is something you cannot teach.

It made me start thinking about playing it safe in life. Do I exhibit the same cowardly characteristics on the playing field of life?

I have taken many risks.  I went to Yale at 16 when I had never been on a plane, or to the East Coast, or seen snow. I moved to Boston at 21 with $500 and no job and no place to live. I applied for a job in publishing that the human resources department told me I would never get. I submitted a textbook proposal knowing full well that publishers only wanted authors who were also professors. I walked 440 miles across northern Spain because it felt important to prove to myself that I could do it. When my partner of 30 years passed, I pulled myself out of my grief long enough to pack up the house and sell it. At 57, I moved back to Texas to take care of my mother. (This last one is probably the bravest thing I’ve ever done!)

I don’t think I’m a coward in life. I don’t think I “protect my lead” when a challenge presents itself. And yet, I did that on the tennis court last night and we lost. Is it a product of age? What the heck happened?

When my tennis teammates who watched the match told me afterwards that I was not acting like myself, that I looked uncomfortable and unwilling to go for broke, my heart sank. I wanted to be grateful for their observations, but truth be told, they stung. Because what they were saying was true.

I’ll see what happens next time I’m on the court in the same situation. I have no trouble hitting all out when I’m losing. The underdog position suits me. It’s when I’m winning that the fear sets in.

All just to say: what do you say we go for broke? In life and on the court. What have we got to lose?