What Couscous, Clay Courts & Camaraderie Share
The sun slanted low over Rabat’s ancient ramparts, throwing gold across the red clay courts of Club Olympique, where the national Moroccan flag fluttered beside the net. There were twelve of us, fresh off a morning session, sweat-soaked and smiling. Mehdi Tahiri, former US Open junior finalist and Morocco’s Davis Cup warrior, tossed a ball casually in his hand. “Again,” he said, grinning. “One more rally before couscous.”
He wasn’t joking.
Where History Sets the Stage
Rabat isn’t just Morocco’s capital—it’s a capital of rhythm, restraint, and quiet excellence. A city of embassies and ancient medinas, of royal palaces and artists’ lofts, it hums with elegance. As you cross the Bab Rouah gate or stroll past the Hassan Tower, you feel it: a city that’s both grounded and ascending
That energy flowed right into our tennis sessions. At Mehdi’s childhood club, tucked behind olive trees and whispering pines, we drilled under his watchful eye. No headset. No ball machine. Just footwork, feel, and focus.
He adjusted our stances, taught us to attack short balls with Moroccan finesse. “Think less about power,” he’d say. “More about intention.” When Mo and Mehdi ran doubles drills together—both once Davis Cup players—you could feel the weight of experience passed like a baton.
Clay Courts, Cracked Jokes, and Couscous
By midday, the courts gave way to conversation. Mehdi led us through Rabat’s downtown maze, a blend of French colonial avenues and souk-side alleyways. “It’s Friday,” he winked. “Couscous time.”
We arrived at a local favorite where families packed every table. But somehow, he had reserved the center spot—with the best view. There was no menu. There didn’t need to be. Soon, platters arrived: steamed semolina crowned with slow-braised vegetables, chickpeas, lamb shoulder, and a medley of spices that made silence settle over the table.
Kabira poured mint tea from high above, and Mo clinked glasses. “This,” he said, “is recovery.”
Internal Link: Want to know who’s behind Tennis Destination? Meet Mo & Roseann.
When a Coach Ices the Experience
As national tennis director, Mehdi does more than organize training. He makes sure the courts are prepped, the servers pour with a smile, and the post-practice beers are ice cold. At Tennis Destination, he’s more than a host—he’s an architect of atmosphere.
That day, we didn’t just hit balls. We connected. He introduced us to local players, arranged ball kids for our mock matches, even walked us to the tram stop to make sure we got back comfortably. When someone mentioned how much they loved his energy, he simply said:
“We don’t teach tennis. We share Morocco through tennis.”
It hit like a clean down-the-line backhand.
He tried to invite us to his house afterward—but we were too many. He laughed. “Next time, full squad in my garden.”
Explore all our unforgettable Morocco Tennis Holidays.
A Rally of Respect
The afternoon faded slowly. Back at the club, we traded one last set under fig trees. No one spoke of scores. Only movement, breath, laughter.
Mehdi stood courtside, arms crossed, nodding. “Presence,” he said. “That’s the only technique that matters.”
And there it was. In a city known for diplomacy and precision, we found connection, soul, and steaming bowls of couscous shared with strangers who no longer felt like strangers.
