Table tennis 🏓

Sunday noon is the perfect day to write another story about my younger age, but this time is a history with another perspective, but it has a good narrative and many anecdotes I would like to share with you.

It was the end of 2009, I was 15 years old at that moment, and I barely practised any sports at that time, I was in a swimming class and a football camp before, but it was only for a few months. I was assisting in the fourth year of high school, and I have faced the changes everyone experiments with at that age.

I remember that I was lazy and without motivation at that time, and I think this concerned my parents. My grades in high school weren't good, and I started feeling lost in life. So, one day was the grades notification; I remember that day because I had the poorest grades I ever had some time.

Instead of punishing me, my dad came that noon with a giant blue table ping pong; I never had a fascination with that sport, but the size and the fact that it was new and came with a pair of racquets and their nylon net caught my attention.

Suddenly, I began to practice with the only person in my house that could play, my dad; we spent hours and hours of suitable matches, laughs and some non-happy defeats. Quickly I learned to play ping pong at a reasonable level and started to improve my technique.

Months passed, and with time, my dad and I became rivals and closer to each other. I was expecting the time when he came from his job to start to play with him, thinking about my serves and movements to defeat him. We used to play mini-tournaments in which the best of 3 matches was the victor.

Those months were incredible; at the end of the school year, I became part of my high school's team table tennis; that was the first time I became part of one sports team.

After a time when I felt I was improving, I felt my dad wasn't a rival to me; behind stayed the first months when he left me to win only to I was happy. Then, the matches were more distant; we played two or three times a week, then one for a month, then barely when he wanted to play again.

After my parents' divorce, I didn't want to play again; I had no motivation, my partner wasn't here to play with me, or I didn't have someone who amazed me when I got a good point, or the match was defined to the last moment.

Table tennis had to lose the magic—the feeling when my dad and I used to play for hours and hours. 

In college, I enrolled in the table tennis competition; I reached the final and got second place; years later, I participated in another round but only caught the quarter-finals.

Sometimes, the time can move away from your family and friends, but until today, I remember that ping pong table with nostalgia, all that matches that made me feel alive one more time, and the feeling of sharing a passion with my dad.

Wherever he is now, I want to dedicate this story and wish him a happy father's day. Thank you for sharing that time with me that quality time, and making me love that sport. I hope you have a good life.

~S.