My Platform Tennis Disaster Yesterday
Got smashed again last night. Third time this week. Felt like a rookie swinging a frying pan. Those guys read my shots like a kindergarten picture book. Beer tasted extra bitter after that beating.
Stayed up digging through old forum posts instead of sleeping. Kept seeing this “control the damn middle” advice everywhere. Sounded too simple. How’s standing in the center gonna fix anything?
Tried Something Stupid This Morning
Dragged my buddy Mark to the empty court at 7 AM. Told him: “Just slam everything to my backhand like Jerry does.” Mark’s serve hit the fence twice. Third one finally came.
First attempt: I stood dead center like those forums said. Felt naked. Mark’s shot flew wide left – my paddle barely touched it. Ball went straight into the chicken wire. “What the hell was that?” Mark yelled laughing.
Changed up: Started shuffling like a crab whenever he swung. Two steps left when I saw his shoulder twist right. Didn’t even care where he aimed.
- Pushed off my left foot hard when he tossed the ball
- Kept my paddle up like carrying a pizza box
- Stomped my front foot down when swinging – felt heavier
What Actually Worked
Third ball came screaming down the middle. Normally I’d panic and bunt it. This time, I was already there. Slammed that sucker right at Mark’s ankles. He jumped like stepping on hot coals. “Screw you!” he screamed. I just grinned.
We played ten more points. Won eight. Not because I hit harder – I just got there sooner. That extra shuffle step cuts your running in half. Like stealing the TV remote before your wife does.
Realized something: controlling the middle isn’t about standing there. It’s about treating the court like your damn kitchen. You always end up back at the sink between chores. Same thing here.
Beer Tastes Better Tonight
Saw Jerry at Pickle Barrel Pub just now. Told him: “Middle’s mine next Tuesday.” He choked on his IPA. Didn’t explain how. Some secrets taste sweeter than victory beer.