Thursday, November 4, 2010

Decimated. Utterly destroyed, insofar as ping-pong is capable of destruction, and even now, a week later, I’m still thinking about what went wrong. I didn’t make it to game three. Hell, I barely made it to game two, with an abysmal 12-21 opening, followed by a 15-21 loss. The second game was closer, obviously, but the six points needed to bring it to deuce may as well have been six fathoms deep, such was the difference in skill.

I don’t think it’s a question of physicality. Not at this level, at least. This isn’t big people tennis, after all, nor is the office playing Olympian-caliber ping-pong, and how quickly it takes me to run a mile shouldn’t have any bearing on performance, right? I mean, it’s not like I need to bench a target weight to be able to swing the paddle faster. No, I suspect the issue is two-fold. I’m missing some items in my toolkit, for starters, specifically a forehand. Full disclosure, I simply don’t have a forehand, and I’d do well to procure one before the annual tournament.

But more importantly, the ability to seize the offensive continues to elude me. I’ve mentioned a good game is like a rich conversation. My recent conversations have been purely one-sided. I constantly find myself on the defensive, and instead of participating in a discussion, I’m essentially taking notes, passively so, and getting schooled in a very real sense. Does being aggressive call for more than flipping a mental switch? Does a defensive style perhaps speak to some kind of personality flaw outside of ping-pong? I’m overthinking things, clearly, but with four consecutive losses today, I’m officially in a dark stretch. And to dig myself out of this rut, indeed to find victory in any appreciable quantity, I need to give–and push–in equal portion.