Thanksgiving was always a fun affair in the Harris household. Every year someone new would host a gathering of every family member that could make it for dinner and drinks and games and conversation. It’s always nice to see the whole family hanging out and telling stories about what’s been going on in their lives since we all saw each other last. And the excellent food is just a bonus. I remember one Thanksgiving, however, that saw us gathered in a very different place for a very different reason and very thankful for one thing in particular.
I watched keenly as Nile tossed the ball up. It was always very difficult to actually return or even catch any of his serves; well, Nile was that good at playing table tennis.
I’m sure there is a puzzled look on my face as I regard my friend Dean. He is getting a new ball from the ball boy who is picking them for us. This is the third time I am unable to return his serve. It is very fast and is packing a lot of power with it. A serious improvement on last month.
She held the ping pong ball in one hand, bringing the paddle close to it before pulling it further away again. She repeated this motion a couple of times, grinning in the way that made me think about her late at night.
Playing on regular basis will increase your fitness. There is not enough time to learn everything there is to know about table tennis in PE class given that this only lasts an hour.
The game of table tennis was invented in England in the 1880’s by rich Victorians looking for an activity to be played indoors. When the game was first played, books served as a net, a knot of string or a champagne cork was used as a ball, and cigarette box lids were employed as paddles.
“Jason, you need to hold on tightly to the baton and rest your entire weight on your left foot. That’s how you play. That’s how you frigging hit the ball!”
I could still remember the words fifteen years later. I was fourteen then and David, my father, wouldn’t stop yelling from a distance as I failed for the umpteenth time at my tennis training. I was supposed to be better. I was supposed to have improved since the last time I trained on the field but the truth was that, unlike the rest of the kids, I wasn’t strong or big for my age. I was lanky. The baton felt too heavy in my hands and I often felt as if my weight was being pushed off the ground by the evening breeze.