A tennis court

Tags:Trust, Kindness, City Life

Small Blurb : A chance tennis match with a stranger in Chicago became more than just a game—it opened reflections on kindness, safety, and trust in a new city. This podcast explores how simple human connections can ease fears and help newcomers feel a sense of belonging.

Transcription: Welcome to the ELI’s Finding Chicago Global Perspectives Podcast Series for AEPP 2025. I’m your host, Ruiyang Lu, and I’m currently enrolled in the University of Chicago’s Physical Science Division, Department of Chemistry.

It was a warm afternoon in my first week here in Chicago. I had just finished class and was walking back to my apartment. As I passed by the tennis court next to the building, I noticed a man practicing his serve. Over and over, the sound of the ball hitting the racket echoed through the court. I stopped for a moment. Tennis has always been my favorite sport. In fact, I love it so much that I even carried the racket in my suitcase across the ocean, from Shanghai to Chicago. But since arriving, I hadn’t had time to play or find anyone here who would like to be my hitting partner. Something inside me told me to take the chance. I walked up to him and said, “Excuse me, would you like to practice tennis with me?” To my surprise, he smiled immediately and said, “I’d love to.” His name was Seth, S-E-T-H. When he saw I didn’t have my racket with me, I quickly explained, “I live nearby. I can get it in five minutes. Could you wait for a moment?” He nodded patiently and waited for me. I rushed back, grabbed my racket, and returned to the court. Soon, we were playing back and forth. At first, just light warm-ups, but then we moved into longer rallies, forehands, backhands, volleys. There were even moments when we both smiled at the same time after a particularly exciting point. When we finally sat down for a break, we started talking. Seth told me that he had played tennis as a child, stopped for many years, and recently picked it up again for fitness. I shared that I had only started last summer, inspired by Chinese player Qinwen Zheng, who won the gold medal at the Paris Olympics. Watching her fight for every single point, refusing to give up, inspired me deeply. Then our conversation shifted to life in Chicago. Seth mentioned that he usually plays tennis in the evenings after work. Hearing this made me pause. I had only been in the city for a few days, and I had already heard many stories about crime in Chicago. Honestly, I was afraid to go out after dark. So I asked him: “Do you think it’s safe to play at night?” Seth thought carefully. He said that personally, he hadn’t had any bad experiences. He often walked his dog in the evening without trouble. But he also acknowledged that Chicago does have crime, more than what I might be used to in China. Then he gave me advice that I will never forget: “If something happens, remember—your life is more important than your money. Be generous, be kind, give them what they want. Don’t fight. Your safety comes first.” In that moment, I felt something shift. He wasn’t just answering my question. He was trying to see the city from my perspective, as someone new, unfamiliar, and maybe even a little scared. His words reassured me. More than that, his kindness made me feel like I wasn’t completely alone here.

That day on the tennis court was not just about sports. It made me reflect on something much deeper—how trust and kindness can appear in unexpected places. Moving to a new city always comes with uncertainty. You don’t know the neighborhoods, the customs, or even the small unspoken rules of daily life. It’s natural to feel cautious, maybe even fearful. I think many newcomers, not just international students, go through this stage. We carry invisible maps in our heads—maps made of stereotypes, news headlines, or warnings from others. And often, those maps tell us: be careful, don’t trust too easily. But what happens when reality doesn’t match the map? For me, Seth became a symbol of that difference. I approached him as a stranger, and he responded with warmth. On the court, we were simply two people who loved the same game. No labels, no categories—just a shared rhythm of hitting the ball back and forth. This experience made me wonder: is fear itself sometimes more dangerous than the actual risks? Fear can prevent us from exploring, from connecting, from building friendships. Of course, we should stay cautious and protect ourselves, but if we let fear dominate, we might never discover the kindness waiting for us. Sports, in particular, seem to have a unique power here. When you step onto a tennis court, you and your partner automatically agree to trust each other—to keep the rally going, to share the energy of the game. It doesn’t matter where you come from or what language you speak. The court becomes a space of equality. In a way, it’s like a micro-version of city life: people from different backgrounds sharing the same space, creating connection through cooperation. I also think about the advice Seth gave me: “Be generous, be kind.” He was talking about how to act if I ever faced danger, but maybe his words apply to city life in general. If we approach others with generosity and kindness—whether on the street, in a classroom, or on a tennis court—maybe we help create a safer, friendlier environment for everyone. Chicago is often described as a city of contrasts: beautiful but complicated, diverse but divided, rich with opportunity but shadowed by inequality. And yet, in my very first week, I met someone who reminded me that beyond the headlines, the true character of a city is built in small moments of human connection. So my reflection is this: cities are not only defined by crime rates or statistics. They are defined by the way people treat one another—by the everyday kindness of strangers who decide to trust, to share, to play tennis with someone they just met.

Thank you for listening to my story. Meeting Seth reminded me that while Chicago may have challenges, it is also full of opportunities for connection and kindness. I hope that each of us, in our own way, can find people who make us feel welcomed, and that we can be that person for others, too.