My son Patrick’s got a black belt in karate, he thinks nothing of
\nsnowboarding all day on the slopes, goes mountain biking for days on
\nhills I’d never consider biking up or down myself. But he had never
\nlearned how to play racquetball, and I had a little experience in the
\ngame.<\/p>\n
Anyway, two years ago when he was a senior at UMd (fall of 2001), I
\ntaught Patrick how to play racquetball, and we’ve been playing once a week
\never since. The first year, we were playing with university racquets,
\nall randomly junky, squishy and small. But we didn’t know any better.
\nThen one day, in the fall of 2002 (I remember it well) for no apparent
\nreason, the gym started to supply Titanium racquets, and (wow!) our games
\nsuddenly improved–mine much more than Patrick’s, since his speed and
\nstrength didn’t need any supplements. With the new racquets I found I
\nwas beating Patrick in every game. Before that I was just barely winning
\nmore than losing.<\/p>\n
So I went out and bought a Titanium racquet for myself. And that has
\nput a serious monkey on my back. Not a week goes by when I think to
\nmyself, “Can this run come to an end? Will the string be broken this
\nweek?” Well, the string in 2002 was, technically speaking, broken,
\nbut only twice, one time we were running out of court time, and a game
\nhad to be stopped in a 9-9 tie. Another time I didn’t have my
\nsneakers with me and had to play in regular street shoes. The score
\nwas 15-13, Patrick’s favor.<\/p>\n
I recall after one sweaty match last spring, we were heading down to
\nthe showers, and this gorgeous black coed came up to Patrick and said
\n“Hi!” to him. She gave him a hug, and Patrick introduced me to her.
\nShe leaned over and gave me a hug, too. (I’ll tell you, it was a good
\nthing we ran into her after the match and not before it, or I wouldn’t
\nhave been able to hit the ball.) So she asks, looking at our
\nracquets, “You’ve been playing racquetball?” And Patrick says, “Yeah,
\nhe always beats me.” I say, “Well, not all the time.” And she just
\nbeams a beautiful smile at me. Made my day, I’ll tell you.<\/p>\n
This run of wins continued through Patrick’s graduation last June, and
\nI thought that the pressure would be off. Sad that we wouldn’t have
\nregular games, but, as I said, the pressure would be off. But
\nno. Patrick decided to sign up at the gym as an alum, and we would
\ncontinue our weekly matches. Everyone I’ve spoken to about this says
\nthat I can’t expect to continue winning forever. Well, of course not.
\nOne or the other of us has to die sometime. Even with my 40 years on
\nhim, the way Patrick snowboards and bikes, it could be him first.<\/p>\n
I think the reason Patrick doesn’t win is that he doesn’t warm up
\nbefore playing. He meets me at the court, and I’ve just finished
\ndoing 20 slow minutes on one of the gym’s elliptical trainers, so I’m all
\nwarm and relaxed, and he’s all tense and cold. Last week’s match was
\nfairly typical. I started off beating him 15-1, and then in the
\nsecond game it was 15-7. By the 3rd game he was warmed up and ready
\nto go, so I really had to focus on treachery.<\/p>\n
The game was close right from the start. He got the first 2 points. So
\nit was 2-0, his serve. I returned it with the kind of shot I often
\nwake up in the morning thinking about. (Yes, Miss Manners, I dream
\nabout racquetball. I admit it.) A solid “whack!” one foot above the
\nfloor and one foot in from the corner, not a true “kill” (which is 1-2
\ninches above the floor), but unreturnable because as it returns from
\nthe front wall, it grazes the side wall too low and too close to hit.
\nNaturally, Patrick dove for it, but no luck, his reach was not enough.
\nFrom then on, it was my usual tactics: never repeat the same serve
\ntwice. Hit a fast serve into the left rear corner, then a fast z-shot
\nto the right. (A z-shot serve goes close into the corner, hits the
\nside wall close to the diagonally opposite rear corner, and gains so
\nmuch spin that it moves off almost parallel to the back wall.) A
\nz-shot to the left, then another fast grazer along the left wall.
\nThen a change-up (which looks like it’s going to be fast, but is
\nslower, throwing the returnee into a swinging fit). So I was able to
\nstay ahead on serves.<\/p>\n
Now it was 12-11 my favor. I was getting tired. Patrick was just getting
\nwarmed up. His serve. He hit it to my weak backhand, and I used my
\ndelaying tactic–hit it off the ceiling. The ball arched way up,
\nslowly fell to the back wall, requiring Patrick to back hand it off
\nthe back wall (he’s good at that). But the angle of descent means his
\nreturn was also off the ceiling. And so was my return. That went on a
\nfew times, each time the slow descent of the ball permitting me to
\nregain my breath and walk (not run) to the center of the court.
\nFinally, I sneaked a return ball behind Patrick’s back as he moved
\nthe wrong way. That, back in the good old days of 2001, used to work
\nat least 90% of the time, but now it works only if my timing is right,
\nand he can’t whip around quite fast enough. A few more sneaky moves
\nand I won 15-14. Hoo! That was close. But time’s up. <\/p>\n
So I go for the Motrin and the hot shower on my tendinitis-prone
\nshoulders, while Patrick speeds off on his mountain bike at full
\ntilt across the campus. No motrin or hot showers for him.<\/p>\n
My questions for you, Miss Manners: Is there a polite way to ask
\nPatrick if he is toying with me? Is it fair of him to put all this
\npressure on me?<\/p>\n
Yours sincerely,<\/p>\n
Rickety Rackity Ed<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My son Patrick’s got a black belt in karate, he thinks nothing of snowboarding all day on the slopes, goes mountain biking for days on hills I’d never consider biking up or down myself. But he had never learned how … Continue reading