Tuesday, October 26, 2010

There is a patch of wall in the office, and on this wall there is writing–not the figurative kind, mind you, but real letters wrought in dry erase marker. In any other context, this would probably be inappropriate. I was raised under the assumption that words should be confined to paper, for example, and putting ink to plaster could only result in severe punishment. But in this case, the scrawl is wholly appropriate because it’s the company ping-pong leaderboard, a faithfully curated account of who’s the one to beat, along with a list of contenders who would seek to administer such a beating.

I’d love to tell you about how I’m the current titleholder, though I’ve yet to earn the right. You heard correctly: the right. For what is essentially a rec room staple, ping-pong carries a surprising amount of gravity at work, where tableside talk can easily turn to how so-and-so plays with a certain style susceptible to this or that approach. Now, we don’t discuss this during office hours, obviously. When the clock hits 5:30 PM, though, the gloves–if such accoutrements even exist for hobbit tennis–come off.

You’ve been apprised of my plan, so I feel honor-bound to furnish regular updates. I put my name on the wall today, effectively throwing the hat into the ring, and while this isn’t the tournament, it’s a necessary step toward it. I’ve spent the past few weeks reclaiming the basics, watching the competition, shoring up weaknesses, and seizing thrilling wins and crushing losses in equal measure. The wall simply makes it official. The challenge may happen this week. Best two out of three, 21 points apiece, and a chance to marvel, firsthand, at the most importance that will ever be conferred upon a small plastic ball.