A Good Serve

is just what I needed on Sunday morning, and who better to help me exert this, than BnA Chris. Having played a LOT of tennis in my, ahem, youth, yet letting it slide when I discovered, um, beer, then living in countries like England/Ireland, the weather/culture was never that conducive to a game, I’m ALWAYS gaggin’ for a game. However, I can rarely find someone who’s willing/able to play on a ‘semi-regular’ basis to enable me to ‘get back in form’ as it were, er, I seemingly amn’t! But having recently read his Wooloowin Open blog, I discovered Chris has a few groundstrokes of his own, and as both our blogs would reveal, we’re both gaggin’ for a suitable fitness regime. So, my suggestion of a Sunday morning sesh was welcomed.

On Saturday night I sent Chris a txt saying ‘still on for 2moz, say 9am?’ I didn’t get a reply ’til 11amish Sunday saying, ‘late night, is noon 2 late?’. Perfect, I replied.

I drive down to the courts, and with 10 minutes to spare, decide to warm up ‘me arm’ and see if my ball toss is as lame as ever. Yep, it certainly is. Still, after a while, I get into a bit of a groove, relax the throw, and it gets more ‘hittable’ than, well, catching it, argh-ing with frustration, and trying again. And again. And again, until sometimes I just hit the ball anyway, nearly throwing my back out cos the ball toss is ‘so’ out there! I used to be a bit of a tennis player/Tracey Austin wannabe/callmewhatyouwill, so it is VERY frustrating to not be able to serve anymore. Still, I persevered.

And persevered.




And, walking from one end to the next [or invariably, the net, where my serves kept landing!], my arm is more than warmed up. In fact, I’m bloody exhausted.

Um, Chris, where are you?

He calls at about 12.30, saying he’s just leaving! So by the time he arrives, I’ve already been on the court for about 50 minutes, in the Summer’s-already-here midday sun – this, I think, is a ploy on his part to have me worn out already, giving him a distinct advantage!!! I guzzle some H2O he very kindly brought, then attempt to play some more. Having served my arm off, I’m just shagged! So with relaxed composure, Chris is casually lopping them back at me [and sneakily managing some dropshots just to make sure I exert all my bodyparts!], using the age-old excuse, ‘I’m just trying to get them back, it’s not intentional’, I’m huffin’ and puffin’ all over the place. Actually, towards the end, I’m letting the ball bounce more than once if I care to!

Still, we have a decent bash, and YAY, Chris is the perfect ‘level’ to play against – the right amount of strength and accuracy to make it worthwhile. i.e If I play someone who just ‘plops’ them back [‘lollypopping like mid-week Ladies Fixtures’ as my ma would’ve said!], my whole timing is screwed and if I play someone who canes them, I’ve no chance of getting into a rally, so, while we didn’t manage to get a set going, it was good! Besides, we were both undernourished and worn out before too long!

To wrap up the afternoon, we treated ourselves to a well-earned [mid-strength, both driving an’ all] beer [or 2], a pub lunch [mine being the hugest ‘perch’ burger I’ve ever seen in my life, and ne’er managed to eat!] entertained by the sounds of Space Invaders, an 80s tribute band, who were tres amuson to say the least!

A Good Serve indeed.

Lacking Upper Body Strength and Somewhat Exerted Abs Ging