Wither, Glory!

Success, if success is not falling to my knees. Or doing a face plant.

The name of the game--pickleball. Chuckle all you want, but I was glad to find myself surrounded this morning by fellow retirees. No one here was beating me in a sprint of 2 or 3 strides. Okay, Andrew, the 38-year-old organizer, maybe. Maybe definitely.

Fleet of foot, Achilles dashed beyond the reach of expectations. My mind said see the ball, hit the ball. My body responded with a resounding, uh, perhaps that could happen. No Achilles I. 

Is it tennis? No, mercifully. I last played tennis (singles) 25 years ago. Yes, before the advent of the century. But folks were talking about it. 

And it's not badminton. And it's not ping pong. Oh, right, table tennis. Since we're in the throes of Olympian heroics.  

I shanked shots, barreled into the forbidden zone near the net, missed overheads by a foot. Dude, the paddle is way shorter than a tennis racket. But, I remained upbeat as I did not smash my doubles partner in the head while lunging after unreachable shots.

Much of the game is being played below waist level, really at the knees. Fine. However, wearing bifocals makes for an interesting problem of timing and space. O' keen-eyed Hermes, shrewd and on point. No Hermes I.

I did not fall to my knees.

After drills and videos and short games, the greater number of fellow paddle-teers left the arena. My doubles partner and I took on Andrew in what would be a lopsided tussle. Okay, no tussling. We were felled by this mighty Ajax 11-3, 11-1. No Ajax I.

I did not smash my partner in the head.

Are you acquainted with the word hubris? So Karen retreated to the safety of her car, the last quartet filed out as well, and what do I ask for. 

"Show me your game serve." Otherwise, "Show me the bullet coming out of your gun."

Whiff. Whiff. Shank. Shank. Dude, move back a step. Shank. Return. Shank. Shank. Return. Return.

"Okay" the hale and hearty warrior called out,"now my real serve with a slice." Hardly hale and hearty I.

Whiff. Shank. Shank. Shank. Shank. Dude, move your feet. Shank. Whiff. Return. Whiff--anyway. Enough.

"Come back Wednesday" said the good-hearted fellow.

I'm thinking, Wednesday, like in 48 hours Wednesday?

Hell to the yes!