Monday 27 May 2013

Tennis.

On a bright sunny day, with an average temperature of close to thirty five degrees Celsius. The waves of heat could be seen from any angle, pouring down on the pavement of the street. The grass in the parks. And on the asphalt on the Tennis court. Where a father and son, were playing the hardest game of tennis they had ever had against each other.

The game was tight and nearing its end, or at least, it should have. They had been playing tennis for a solid four hours, which was a lot for them. The hot sun was beading down, and they each had their own advantages and disadvantages. The young ones advantage was that he was fourteen years old. So he had lots of energy, and great stamina. The older ones disadvantage was that he was fifty years old. He had bad knees and, although good stamina, not a teenagers. Something his son pointed out to him, repeatedly.

The fourteen year old disadvantage was that he was fourteen years old. And every time, anything that remotely resembled a woman, he would tense up and screw up his serve, or his back hand. And then the old man would tease him

The old man's advantage was that he was fifty years old and had been married for twenty five years, and could give two shits about the young girls that were walking past the tennis court.

However, the old man had also taught his son everything that he knew about tennis, so there skill level was equal. And it had become pretty vicious.

They were in the final set, and they were in the final tie breaker. And they kept on bouncing back and forth between deuce and advantage. Over and over.

The other people on the court had stopped to watch. It was in itself, too amazing to see these rallies. The ball moving faster than they had ever hit before, each desperate to win. Each for their own reasons, or maybe the same one. Sometimes, you just have to win.

The will power that they were displaying now against each other had begun to more like a chess game than a game of tennis. As neither of them were above taunting.

“Hey! Boy! Which one of those girls is your girlfriend?” The father threw at him

“What's that? I couldn't hear you, I think my serve broke the sound barrier, you sounded really whiny and like you were about ready to give up. Was that it?” A solit parry from the boy

“You little shit.” Clearly a hit for the boy.

“I love you too Dad, try not to break any bones while you swing and miss on this one, okay?” In for a kill shot.

“I'm trying to be nice to you because I know you're young, and you still cry so easily, and I didn't want to mention that in front of any of these girls.” A cheap, but effective blow.

“Hurmph” The boy had nothing.

And then back into play. The boy advantage, deuce, the boy advantage, deuce, water break. The old man advantage, deuce.

“At some point we have to go home and have dinner, you know.” The old man, aware of the time.

“Oh yeah, well if you want to quit.” Smirked the boy.

“Your serve.”

In a tennis tie breaker, you have to win by at least two points. Or it can go on forever, tie breaker or not.
It went on forever. All the people had left, not because they wanted to, but because they had to for whatever reason.

Finally, the old man won the game.

The boy lost his cool, his rage unleashed on the court. It was a sight to see. The threw his racket and it shattered into pieces.

A few girls that had been watching him because he looked so cute while playing his dad, quickly left. And that made the rage worse.

The father came up to his son and tried to be stern, but he had no idea what was going on.

“Stop it son, it's just a game.” Confused at the behaviour, unaware what could have caused this.

“Oh yeah, sure. Just a GAME!” he screamed at him.

Then the father tried to hug his boy. And his boy thrashed and yelled. And eventually collapsed into his fathers arms.

And he cried. They both did. And then softly, to his son:

“Good game though, real close”

“Chhhuk.. huh. Yeah. I would have won a while ago if your eyes could actually see when the ball hit the line instead of just yelling out because you're blind.”

“At least it's just my eyes, you just cheat!” He exaggerates this exclamation, as if he's flabbergasted.

“Do not!”

“Do so! I had at least, five balls that were on the line.” Another gross exaggeration.

“You're blind. What the hell do you know?” Good point.

“You're a child, what the hell do you know?”Better point.

“Yeah.”

And then they packed up the equipment, and the boy had to carry the rackets. They were both exhausted. Usually after they played tennis, they would race each other home. Through the park, mostly to get through the mosquitoes as quickly as possible.

“No race today son, okay?”

“Okay. Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Because you have no hope of beating me!” and he broke off into a dead sprint laughing maniacally.

Good luck old man!” And he bolted after his dad. And they raced home, yelling out and arguing over what the finish line was.

First to hit the garage door!”

Noo, first one inside the house.”

Okay, you have to hit the garage door first and then get inside to win.”

Stop. Making. Me. Talk.”

Wuss.”

And then the boy won the race home. Because his father let him.

Because that's what fathers do sometimes.


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