Gotta Love This Game!

Kids in tow, balls in bag, hat on head, and racket in hand I forge ahead towards the one domain that brings me the most frustration and at the same time the most pleasure. I step on to the the rectangular court and it's like I am now in another land, suspended in time, almost weightless. Anchored only by the seriousness of the task at hand. I am surrounded by white borders, lines of demarcation that do not bend or sway not even a micron for those who choose to do battle within them. Fronted by a frayed but still taut net that separates the court into two halves and clearly defines the area that I am charged with protecting. The net is symbolic to me for it represents the valley that separates the boys from the men. Sweat begins to trickle down the side of my stone cast face and I know that I am ready. My gear is intact. I am prepared.

As my opponent positions himself across from me on the other side of the net adrenaline begins to surge through me like fuel through a super charged engine. I focus my eyes on him now and his features come into view, I shall describe them for you. His stature is the first thing that I notice 6' 2", lean and muscular. His long brown hair is kept in place by a turquoise headband that matches the aqua colored outfit that he is donning. The smile that he wore earlier is gone replaced by a more menacing facade, almost a scowl, his Game Face I suppose. He pumps his powerful arms and legs like pistons running in place and leaping into the air; his warm up ritual no doubt. I try not to allow myself to be intimidated.

I too begin my warm up exercise. I begin to bounce on one leg then the other like a boxer, rotating my arms in small circles loosening the muscles in my shoulders. I sprint now from one end of the court and back again. My body begins to warm now and a sheen of sweat forms on my torso and cascades down to my legs. My body is ready for the battle.

I look across the net at my opponent to gauge his preparedness. He gives me a sign by the subtle nodding of his head that he is ready. I grab two balls, jam one in my right pocket and the other I begin to bounce on the ground as I steady myself. My opponent leans forward and bends his legs at the knees, rocking from side to side in anticipation of the first serve. I close my eyes and clear my mind of all distractions; work, children, wife they are all gone, now it is only the game. I open my eyes and lift my head now my line of sight on the service box; then the ball toss. As the ball reaches it's apex my body contorts downward and then springs upward. My left arm flexes and rockets upward violently the racket clenched tightly in my hand. I bring the arm forward now swiftly, powerfully. The racket face slams against the ball propelling it forward as if it was shot from a cannon.

The ball strikes the ground and rockets past my opponent as he lunges for it vainly. An Ace! Apparently, he was not ready.