The game-changing paddles…
A tanish-brown, muscular coyote darted through my wooded backyard, traversing the white snow while I was having a discouraging conference call. It was beautiful and a little scary.
Last night I had trouble falling asleep. I should qualify “trouble.” For me, this means it look longer than 30 seconds. What seemed like an eternity was probably only 30 minutes. My shoulders, especially my right shoulder, were twitching and throbbing. This is not a big surprise as I have torn tendons in both shoulders almost two years ago. But the cause of this particular throb and the extra big knot at the right side of my neck keeps making me smile.
My fourteen-year-old son Paul and I have been playing a lot of ping-pong lately. If you follow my blog, you know that I bought a ping-pong table off of Craig’s list. It was way bigger that I had conveniently imagined and now it is sitting smack-dab in the middle of our living room because it fits nowhere else. Paul lives with me every other week and we decided to live around this table through winter until it could live in the garage. We have come to treasure quick access to the continuation of our on-going battle. After about a month, Paul leads 73-68 in games won. I have been leading the series most of the way, but just barely, until the recent acquisition of new ping-pong paddles.
The paddles have changed everything. First, they are heavier. Hence, my ailing shoulders. Second, playing ping-pong in a wheelchair requires that I sit very close to the edge of the table. This enables me to have more table coverage as I can cut down the angle of balls traveling cross-table. (It also helps that I have long arms.) My best strategy for winning is a fast game with balls traveling low over the net. This works well when the paddles are cheap, meaning wood with just a thin layer of textured rubber over both sides. Those paddles don’t allow for a lot of spin, especially the dreaded top-spin. Top-spin makes the ball drop quickly near the end of its trajectory. This allows the ball to fly higher over the net and yet still drop and hit the back edge of the table. With these new paddles that are specifically designed for more spinning, Paul has been mastered all kinds of rotational treachery. Unfortunately, he mastered top-spin when we were tied at 67 games a piece.
This is the beginning of the end my friend. Utter carnage. Crashing and burning. Paul had begun to dominate. He’s not just getting lucky. He’s better and the separation will only increase. I am a wily veteran and still have a mental edge. I will steal a game here and there, but for the most post, my reign is over.
So begins an age-old story. The son begins surpassing his father. This began early with us. I remember at about eight when Paul believed that his height had passed his sitting father. He was quite disappointed when he realized I still had quite an edge while lying flat. Paul can now bump me up a couple of stairs. He is often now the one who loads the car. He will even be driving with his permit in a couple of months.
Usually there is a moment when the competitive physical baton is passed from father to son. For most relationships, this might happen on the basketball court or the golf course or in being able to lift things. Because of our particular situation, ours comes with the advent of new ping-pong paddles.
I am approaching fifty. I have reached my zenith and my throbbing shoulders remind me of my gentle decline. It’s a little scary. The passing of generations continues between Paul and me. It will take time, a number of years. I know that it will go fast, too fast, not because I do not want to pass the baton, but because it means my boy is moving away into the rest of his life.
I remember the coyote. I am grateful that I noticed him as he entered the edge of my visual field. I am grateful that I paused in the middle of my conference call and watched carefully. Most of all, I am grateful that everything takes time and there is time to feel.