We made our way over to the Table of Dreams on Friday morning. There were bright and blustery conditions. The ground below appeared as if it had never rained. It’s going to take quite a few soakings for the Estuary Wilds surrounds to soften up once again.
I felt there was more pressure on us during the warm-up than in the actual game itself. We’ve slipped into the routine of practising forehand corner to corner at some pace, and then immediately followed by backhand corner to corner. It certainly improves your playing style but also frustrates your playing partner when you fuck up.
I fucked up.
The game was quite competitive. We attracted the interests of a more mature dog walker in the park.
“You’re playing for the Wivenhoe Championship!”
…she exclaimed with a rather unnecessary enthusiasm. Erm, nope, luv. We’re just filling in time to be honest, Whatever.
I went in far too early with my spin. This is always a sign that I’m bored and I want to start showboating. I wasn’t quite in a position to do this.
I realised the error of my premature ways and returned to TWATTING the ball as hard as possible in the very next game.
One particular shot projected the ball half way down the other end of the park. Enjoy the walk, playing partner.
I somehow walked away with a 3-2 win.
