So, I found myself at this local tennis exhibition the other weekend. Wasn’t really planning on it, you know? But my neighbor, old Tom, kept going on about it. “You used to play a bit, right? Come on down, it’ll be a laugh,” he said. And well, the sun was out, and I figured, why not? What’s the worst that could happen?
I got there, and the place was buzzing, more than I expected. Lots of families, kids running around. They had a couple of courts set up for some proper matches, and then a few more for just casual hitting. I thought, okay, this looks alright. My main plan was just to watch a bit, maybe hit a few balls if there was a spare court. Didn’t bring my best racket or anything, just the old reliable one that’s seen better days, much like my backhand.
I spent a good hour just watching some of the club players. Some were really good, proper serious faces, you know? Slicing and dicing. Others were more like me, just happy to get the ball over the net. It was all pretty chill. I even bumped into a few people I hadn’t seen in ages. We had a bit of a chat, the usual “how have you been” stuff.
Then the “Fun” Part Started
After a while, I decided to actually try and play. There was a sign-up sheet for some informal doubles. I put my name down, thinking it would be a casual hit-around. Got partnered with this young lad, full of beans, probably half my age. He was pretty decent, actually. Our opponents were a couple who looked like they played together all the time. Very coordinated.
And that’s when things got a bit… awkward. One of the guys organizing the sign-ups, let’s call him Barry. I knew Barry from way back. We weren’t enemies or anything, but we’d had a silly disagreement at the old community center committee about, I don’t know, the color of the new curtains or something equally daft, years ago. Ancient history, I thought.
Well, Barry comes over while I’m waiting for our court, clipboard in hand, looking all official. And he says, loud enough for a few people to hear, “Oh, you’re playing? Didn’t think we’d see you gracing us with your presence after that fuss you made about the tournament fees last year.”
Now, here’s the thing.
- I hadn’t been to that club last year.
- I hadn’t made any fuss about any tournament fees.
- He clearly had me mixed up with someone else, or was just trying to be a bit of a prat.
I just sort of blinked at him. Tried to explain he was mistaken, but he just sniffed and walked off. It was so weird. Threw me off my game before I even hit a ball. My young partner looked a bit uncomfortable too. Suddenly, the fun, casual vibe felt a bit strained, at least for me. I spent the first few games just replaying Barry’s comment in my head. My shots were all over the place. We lost, obviously. Spectacularly, in fact. My partner was very gracious about it, bless him.
It just reminded me how some folks can hold onto the smallest things, or just like to feel a bit important by putting others down. It’s like that old shed I’ve been meaning to clear out – full of stuff that doesn’t matter anymore, but you just can’t be bothered to sort it, so it just sits there festering. That little comment from Barry, it was like that. Unnecessary.
Anyway, the rest of the exhibition was fine, I guess. Watched a bit more tennis, had a lukewarm hotdog. But that little encounter just soured it a bit for me. It’s funny, you go out expecting a simple afternoon of sport, and you end up with a reminder of petty human nature. Still, the young lad I played with was a good sport, and seeing some of the kids whack the ball with pure joy was nice. Maybe I’ll stick to just watching from the sidelines next time, or find a wall to practice against. Less drama that way.
