Tuesday, February 28, 2012

It’s called “table tennis” internationally, “ping-pong” domestically, and here, in this area code, we call it “hobbit tennis,” every once in a while. Or I do, at least. Starting tonight. I made some claims on the matter almost a year ago, and I thought it’d be a worthwhile to follow up on them–if only to verify whether I honor my oaths, or simply declare them.

I pledged two things, back in March. First, I would rebuild my paddle. Second, I would add a more aggressive style of play to my skill set. As far as the hardware goes, it remains unchanged, largely due to the level of effort and expense required. There’s a sense of pride mixed into the equation, too. Whenever I face off against somebody who’s got a brand new paddle, I’ll take it on the chin as I adjust. But once I do, winning is all the sweeter because I can say, “How’s that million-dollar paddle working out for you now?” Well, maybe not say it, because that would overtly brand me as a douchemax supreme, but that’s the subtext.

There has been substantial progress, however, on pressing the attack, which has partly manifested itself as a fun and (usually) reliable backhand smash. There’s just something pure and primal and freeing about whaling away at a tiny plastic ball. More important than the smash, though, is a keener sense of your opponent. Being constantly on the defensive is suffocating, and the goal is to regain your momentum and dictate the terms of play. That seems far more important than swinging your paddle violently. All told, then, I’m one for two on my promises. I guess that means you can count on me sometimes.