Recently a very good friend of mine has encouraged me to get out on Tuesday nights and have a hit at the local tennis club. Not being the most athletic person going about, I was initially hesitant but decided to give it a go. There was no real good reason to refuse, and in any case there is almost nothing on television that night.
There is a core of about a dozen regular players who front up week after week - my mate and his partner included - and about another two dozen who cycle in at intervals. Altogether, everyone knows everyone and the games are usually light-hearted and carefree. We definitely don't play for sheep stations, despite the large number available in the local district.
The format of the evening sees you play three games of doubles with a different set of people each time. Typically it takes about three hours from start to finish. We start at 6:30pm just as the last of the sunset is disappearing in its pink and purple hues. There is typically a two-hour period of grace before the bugs appear in great numbers, pooling as they do under the gaze of the spotlights. With the weather being as it currently is, the temperature is typically 28 degrees when we start, with humidity somewhere in the 80% range. Soupy conditions indeed.
I'm having great fun, although I am significantly handicapped by my physical condition; I have the turning circle of a Greek ferry and the responsiveness of a sloth. My serve is also diabolical and hilarious to anyone who happens to be watching; the ball, when thrown in the air, can go absolutely anywhere. It is then feebily hit to land somewhere approximately on the other side of the net. On one occasion it hit my playing partner in the arse. Another time, the ball hit the edge of the racquet and actually landed behind me. It has taken me three weeks to be able to win a game off my own serve!
It has taken me four weeks to finally win a game, although I feel much like the NBA player who told reporters he'll always remember the night he and Michael Jordan combined to score 60 points. Jordan happened to score 59 of them.
What I'm enjoying most about the social tennis is the opportunity to step back from my job, my work, my role, my responsibilities, and all the baggage, chaos, concern, worries and utter shit that goes along with it. It's good to just exist for three hours running around (or walking casually to retrieve balls hit over the fence, as is often my case) chasing a ball with a racquet, and to worry about little else. And for that reason alone I'll be back at the courts each Tuesday night.
