For those of you who care, I went home (PA) and played with Good Joe for the first time since January sometime. Well, it’s sort of become a tradition that every time we see each other, we play tennis sometime that week. I had left my racket here (MD), so I needed to go buy one, which I had been meaning to do anyway. I shelled out the $40 to get this new lightweight super top spin reach racket that I probably wouldn’t be able to use to its advertised capacity. We went to play, and apparently Joe had gotten better. The day before we went to play, when it looked like we weren’t going to get a chance to do so, I had lied and told him that I had gotten better also. Anyway, we warmed up a little bit, and he looked really good. I was hoping it was just luck and he’d choke like normal when we met in a game. Well, he took the first two games easily. My new $40 racket sucked ass. I missed a volley at the net to embarrass the last point of those two games out of me. In anger, I hit the top of the net with my racket. I’ve done this 8,000 times with all my other rackets, other people’s rackets, and a clenched fist once or twice too. But this racket was apparently made out of tin or some equivalent alloy. It didn’t bend. It dented. It looked like this:
You get the point. At any rate, it was no longer usable. So in effect, I paid over $20 a game to lose and play like shit. I haven’t consulted Tony, but I imagine that’s not a great financial decision. I was pissed, and since the damn thing wasn’t worth anything to me anymore, I did what any normal intelligent man would have done. I bashed it to hell. Now it looks more like this:
Close enough. So anyway, Joe kicked my ass, and I was mighty pissed. When I simmered down enough after getting some Italian water ice, I mustered up the humility to tell him that he had a really nice first two games…
“Yeah. Things kinda fell apart after that.”
-Beats Me While I’m Down Joe
Now Joe has no racket.
More proof that love stinks,
Still Standing Right Here…