The ping pong table that I grew up with was moved aside years ago to make room for my dad’s putting green. It is rolled into its prior spot in the basement once or twice a year to host a beer pong or flip cup match when both my brother and I have all of our friends over—usually on New Year’s Eve or for my birthday.
I always liked playing ping pong with my brother and dad. I seldom won against them, but I could kill any of my friends. My mom, however, never even tried to play with us. I was lucky to have inherited functioning eye-hand coordination genes from my dad’s side of the family.
Today, for the second time in Japan, I put those years of practice to use when I joined the table tennis after-school club at my Junior High. I played a boy who paused to say sumimasen every time he hit a shot that I could not return. He really felt bad about it. In an effort to step up the competition, I suggested that we play a game. He agreed, and I told him not to take it easy on me. The sumimasens continued as I hit the ball into the net, and I could not help but think back to the brawls that my brother and I would get into when arguing over the score, or when I accused him of taking cheap shots. The game against my student lost its vigor as I could see he had no interest in beating (thus embarrassing) me. I was all warmed up though. Ready for a real match; ready to feel my heart race towards a win. Anti-climatically the student said that it was break time and rested his paddle on the table. That was that.
The coach offered to play me next, and again hoping for a good match I consented. He was more interested in seeing how many times we could hit the ball back and forth (147—he kept count) than trying to hit a winning shot. I even found myself saying sumimasen when I hit the ball too hard.
I guess club activities in Japan are not about winning or losing. I will just have to get used to playing for fun.
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