Ah, tennis. So beautiful, delightful, satisfying, frustrating, gut wrenching, miserable…makes you want to scream! If you’ve ever lost a match or two, or three…in a row — your yellow ball may be losing its fuzz appeal.

Here are ways our readers express riding the emotional seesaw between winning and losing:

“When you play well and win, it’s like the world is full of rainbows as you ride home from the match on a spry unicorn while your lustrous locks blow in the wind. Losing on the other hand, brings to mind eternal darkness and ogres dragging you off the court by your dry, split ended hair.” —Karen S.

“When I win, I feel I can fly! When I lose…just don’t talk to me for a few days.”—Susan J.

“Winning is like being weightless and powerful. Losing is like being given the most delicious ice cream cone, which after one lick, suddenly falls to the ground and melts into the sidewalk.”—Eleanor B.

“Winner, loser. The words say it all.”—Judith Q.

“When I win I credit myself for the unbelievable, high-quality shots I made. When I lose I blame the coach, the weather, my too tight white skirt, bad line calls, the neighbors, lawnmowers, loud birds and, of course, my husband… anything that will shift the focus off my crappy playing.”—Jamie V.

“When I win, I have a cocktail. When I lose, I have a cocktail.”—Barb K.

“It’s all in the posture. Winner—shoulders back, head-up, making eye contact with everyone in your line of sight so you can tell them about your victory in great detail. Loser—shoulders rounded, head down, avoiding human contact so you can rush home and sulk in bed with a bar of chocolate.”—Mimi H.

“People make too much of winning and losing. The act of playing is the joy.”—Liz O.

“Every point has to end. When the game is over, win or lose…move on.”—Lori W.

“If I always worried about winning or losing, it would be impossible to play the game.”—Sam R.

And if you’re wondering how professional champions feel about losing:

“After Paris, the final, which is great, you know, for everyone on this planet with the exception of me — I don’t do what everyone else does — I was really pissed, I have to admit. I thought I could’ve played better, I thought I could’ve competed better, I thought I could’ve really done everything five times better. And I didn’t, and I was so pissed that I actually abandoned my rackets in France after maybe a few smashes of the racket bag. I felt like if I was going to play that awful and that crappy, that maybe I don’t need rackets. Maybe I can just show up to a tournament, and maybe I can get to a final without playing great, and without practice.