This Is How We Play
Reflections from Radici Court on June 29
If you're like us, you're checking scores today.
Probably more than once. Maybe you’ve got Centre Court streaming in the background while you work. Maybe you’re refreshing the draw like it holds some secret about your own fate. The algorithm knows, too—it’s feeding you Paolini’s grit, Alcaraz’s fire, slow-motion clips of Sinner’s backhand like it’s scripture.
It’s that time of year: white clothes, green lawns, tension so pure it hums. Wimbledon.
And yes, it’s beautiful. Yes, it’s sacred. But also—what are we doing?
We talk about the stats, the rankings, the upsets. But maybe we’re not just watching tennis. Maybe we’re looking for something. Maybe we’re trying to see if we’re winning or losing too.
At Radici, we see it differently.
The great players—the ones we adore and the ones we can't quite stand—they’re all mirrors. The calm ones. The explosive ones. The ones who choke. The ones who come out of nowhere.
How do we root for all of them?
How do we tolerate all of them? Because when we do that—really do that—we start to root for ourselves. We start to tolerate ourselves. On the court, yes. But also in our families. In our friendships. In love. In work. In the hard quiet moments in between.
This is the game we’re playing at Radici.
It’s not a match. It’s a path. One we walk—and sometimes stumble—together.
We play too. We swing hard. We sweat. We compete.
But we’re also learning what it means to really win.
The scoreboard can’t track our worth. The rankings can’t tell us who we are.
So we ask different questions:
What are we climbing—status, or connection?
Can you be a champion in a relationship?
Can you win at friendship? At presence? At being whole?
At Radici Court, the weekend doesn’t end with a trophy.
It ends with something quieter, something deeper—a sense of return. A sense that we moved toward ourselves and toward each other. That we were willing to feel it all. That we were, even briefly, completely alive.
On June 29th, we lived the vision.
We arrived early. We prepared with care. Citrus was sliced, cucumber water steeped, yoga mats unrolled, and courts scrubbed clean. The orange coolers filled with ice and intention. Music was cued. Bells tested. Intentions whispered. We slept well, rose early, and welcomed the day with open breath and quiet excitement.
And the valley offered its blessing.
A thick marine layer from the Pacific coast had crept inland, all the way from Ventura up through Ojai, cloaking the town in a silver fog. But at the Hermitage, above it all, the sun was already shining. Light filtered through the oaks. The wind danced through the palms. It was as if the day knew.
Guests arrived slowly, reverently—transitioning from freeway to two-lane roads, winding up to Gridley, through the Hermitage gates.
Gravel crunched under tires. Dust softened over tree roots. The climb up to Radici Court—riding the Kawasaki, holding a coffee—felt like a threshold.
And then we began.
The bells played. The Topa Topas stood watch. Chief Peak above us.
Azzurro welcomed us, grounding the group.
Julio helped us set our intention: to focus on the contact point. Markus then guided us toward that contact with grace and energy. And Fabiano—always the firestarter—shouted "Andiamo!" from the sidelines, calling us into movement, into joy, into forza.
From there, the Inner Court unfolded.
We moved. We played. We laughed. Carroll led us, one by one, through the new Radici Court oracle deck—each card a reflection, each moment a mirror. We breathed together. We healed together.
We were fed—truly fed.
Matcha protein smoothies. Radici-style uncrustables. Cucumber salad. Fresh fruit. Bananas hanging nearby. Citrus bursting on the trees. And the late-season Ojai pixies—like sunlight in fruit form.
There was the pool. The view. The sacred valley. The unspoken communion.
The quiet breakdowns. The real breakthroughs.
We didn’t keep score. We kept presence.
And as the day came to its natural close, we knew: this was the shape of success. Not a finish line, but a return. To self. To community. To the path.
To all who joined us—thank you for trusting the process.
We’re building something—not just an experience, but a movement. One breath, one swing, one Radici day at a time.
So yes—watch Wimbledon. Love it. Obsess over it.
Let yourself feel the thrill of the draw, the heartbreak of the tie-break, the drama of the net cord. But also remember: that intensity lives in you too. And it doesn't need a championship stage to be worthy.
At Radici, we’re practicing a different kind of excellence—
one rooted in community, in presence, in the sacred rhythm of showing up again and again.
June 29th reminded us what’s possible when we gather with intention.
When we play for connection, not for conquest. When we let the court become a mirror—not just for our strokes, but for our spirit.
We’ll do it again soon—keep an eye out for our next event.
Until then, we’re here in Los Angeles, holding space for the daily rituals:
one-on-one court sessions, quiet drills, laughter, movement, sweat, and the simple gratitude that comes from aligning with the rhythm of the sport.
Come play. The gates are open.
