The Pool

Sixteen tables are set up in one end of the huge gymnasium and 15 or 20 players are playing or getting ready to play. We know several of them, having visited the Rochester Table Tennis Club once or twice before.

We have an hour to practice or warm up, so we grab a table and start hitting. I'n terrified of having an "off" night, so I run through the familiar litany of self-coaching -  stay low, relax your wrist, watch the dang ball, spin the ball, don't overhit - again and again.

After the warm-up, I am assigned to a 'pool' of five players, so I have four matches, best of five games, to play. First match is against Valerie, a young woman at least 30 years younger than I. She has a tricky serve, but I win the first two games. Then my forehand deserts me and suddenly it's two games all.

'Stay low, relax your wrist, watch the dang ball, spin the ball, don't overhit, stay low....'

And I pull it out, 11-8 in the fifth game.

In quick succession, I play a young man at least 40 years younger than I, another young man not less than 50 years younger than I, and yet another young man probably 45 years younger than I. I'm fighting kids.

Somehow, two hours has disappeared and it's time to go home.  I won all four matches and I know exactly what that means:  next time, I'll be in a tougher pool....