Anyone for bad tennis?
I had my first Day Of Doing Something Proper Before Doing An Evening Gig yesterday.
At that Something Proper was Playing Tennis.
I really enjoy tennis, but am not so much a beginner, as an executive beginner. The last time I picked up a racquet - and actually played tennis with it - was five years ago. And the last time before that was about five years before that.
I’m also terribly unfit and do no exercise whatsoever (bar my 30-minute workouts in the gym here - if you can call walking while watching CNN ‘working out’ - and my daily, Flipper-like, splashing about in the swimming pool).
So naturally, when someone asked me if I wanted to play a game of tennis in 34 degree heat and gross humidity, I said “yes”.
It’s becoming my new answer to everything.
My tennis partner was S, an incredibly friendly, middle-aged guy who retired when he was 47 and now seems to be the male version of a lady of leisure. The venue was Penang Sports Club, of which he’s a member; an old colonial building which sports cannons on its front lawn (amazing what steps they take to keep out non-members) and multiple tennis courts on its back lawn…
… as well as a cricket pitch, which is about to host some of the matches of the Under 19 Cricket World Cup, and courts/halls for just about every other sport imaginable, as long as it involves a ball. Although, no, I tell a lie: they do have badminton courts.
Anyway, S was a good sport in every sense of the word, putting up with my lousy playing and not being too dismayed that the longest rally we had involved about six strokes, and took place once every half an hour.
He kept saying, “It’s the humidity, it’s the humidity. You must take it easy…”; and got quite alarmed when I started patting my chest at one point to indicate that my heart was racing, as he thought it meant I was having some sort of major chest pain.
If there was any sort of pain, it was more the embarrassment at my playing; and then my embarrassment at my embarrassment, when I realised that I was the only person shouting “Sorry!” every five minutes across the entire length of the courts.
Fortunately - because I did really enjoy playing - S hasn’t given up on me. He’s going to help me find a cheap second-hand racquet, and we’re going to start playing more. Next time, apparently, it will be doubles with the former British Consul to Penang, who we bumped into while we were there. A 75-year-old chap - and he’s most definitely a ‘chap’ - with a white handlebar moustache, he plays tennis at the club every day, and the first thing he said to us (in a fantastic Jeeves And Wooster-style accent) was: “He’s always grabbing my balls!”. Brilliant. I could have sworn I was in an episode of It Ain’t Half Hot Mum.
PS. There are more photos from Penang Sports Club - including shots of its Wimbledon-like lawn courts and comedy signage - here.
January 20th, 2011 at 5.34am
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