Racquetball Chronicles IX

Tonight was playing a guy I was introduced to through a mutual friend. I was very upfront about my playing ability...sort of. See, when we first planned this, it was a week ago...and I have played thrice since then.

I get better every time I play. Much better.

Anyway, he said something along the lines of, "Oh, it's okay...I will play left-handed to make it a game."

Sure enough, adjustments had to be made to make it a game. When I was ahead about 10-3 I severely relaxed my game. The funny thing is...my game was not particularly "on" tonight. I was not hitting strong kill shots or spectacular passing shots.

I was simply getting to every single ball. Hit it high off the ceiling? I drift back, hit a rocket that made him hit a defensive shot. Hit it low off the front wall? I return the favor and move you side to side. Get caught on one side of the court and out of breath? Even a mediocre passing shot to the far corner will either score a point or a side out.

The problem is...I am not yet a skilled player, just an energetic one. So taking my foot off the gas turns me from a dominating player into a mediocre player. And he turned it into a real game, scoring I think 13 before we were done.

Once I slowed my frenetic pace I could not turn it back on that game.

Second verse, just like the first...I rushed out to a commanding lead, started experimenting...I tried developing a z-serve but was struggling with my placement. I tried (and missed) kill shot after kill shot.

He crept back into it and again scored a lot. At one point we were deadlocked at 11-9 for probably 10 minutes. It was ridiculous.

In the end, it was a relatively comfortable win, he might have scored 10 or 12 points but I always believed I could get the serve back and put him away.

By game three he was totally gassed. I was deliberately taking my time between serves and points to make sure we both had energy for the points, but as the game went along he let more and more shots he would have hit earlier get to the floor.

But before that, we exchanged service breaks three or four times apiece at nothing apiece. We then had an awesome rally. I blistered a strong serve, low to the backhand corner. He scraped the floor with his return. I punched it to the forehand corner. He hit a ceiling shot. I hit a ceiling shot. He went for a kill shot. It was a great shot but a spectacular lunge and flick of the wrist led to a passing shot down the far side of the court. He somehow got to it and hit a passing shot on me that I somehow plowed off the back wall. he had another kill shot that I not only got to, I hit a passing shot that scored the point.

No kidding, we probably played that point for at least a minute with several great shots and spectacular saves by each of us. Loved that volley.

I smiled, laughed, slowly extended my forefinger. "One. That is all that counted for. One."

And served a nasty ace that pinched the side wall and bounced twice before the safety line. "Two."

Soon it was 6-0...though in reality I had scored about 9, but we were both a bit tired and I had no interest in a skunk. He ended up scoring about 8 in the game (2 of which I added to his score when he was not looking) but it was not that close.

Overall it was extremely fun. I can tell when he shakes the rust off and gets in a little bit of shape he will be a tough match up. For now I consider it a quality win over a quality opponent.

And I can feel myself improving not just every night but often enough every single game. And I love it.