Sunday, January 12, 2014

Conversations During Tennis

Hello, everybody.

I was in the middle of an ever-so-interesting tennis lesson with my brother and my dad when I thought, Why not make an imaginary dialogue among my various body parts?  

Go back and reread that sentence.

OK, did you just realize what I just said?

See, I'm an OK tennis player.  But unfortunately, I'm not gifted with the ability to athletically, you know--be awesome at sports.  So below, I'm writing, in a play format, what I imagine my various body parts say when I'm playing tennis.

I'm weird.

If you don't get what I'm saying, just read below.

Right Hand (Responsible, logical, left-brained, smart)
Left Hand (Absent-minded, scatterbrained, adds nothing to conversation)
Right Foot (Commanding, confident, go-getter)
Left Foot (Not confident, wishy-washy, wistful)
Brain (Can observe, but cannot draw inferences from observations.  I.e., illogical and not smart)

(I am working on my forehand and backhand.  Ball comes.)

Brain: (excitedly)  Look, there's a ball coming!  I wonder what we're supposed to be doing.
Right Hand: (drily) I think we're supposed to try to hit the ball.
Left Hand:  (dull voice) I like ponies.
Brain: (scratches head imaginarily) Oh, right!  Well, okay, the ball's about ten feet from us, and it's almost onto its second bounce.  But you know what, I think that we can make it without moving our feet.
Right Hand: I don't think I can reach that far.  FEET!  MOVE!
Right & Left Feet: (sleepily)  Um, we don't really want to.  
Left Hand: I like ponies.
Right Hand: Too late.  Here goes.  WRIST!  SNAP, LIKE DAD TOLD YOU TO!
Wrist:  I'd, like, rather be, like, resting on the girl's laptop, like, letting the fingers type, you know?

(Right Hand manages to swing, but the ball frames.)

Brain: (observantly)  Oh, look, the dad's telling us to move our feet.  Maybe the feet should move...neh.  This one's a looper.  We can make it.

(Ball approaches.)

Right Hand: (voice shrill)  I don't want to do all the work this time!  Feet, you'd better move!
Left Foot: (drowsily)  I don't waaaaaannnnna move.
Right Foot: (crossly)  Oh fine, I'll move.

(Moves to right.)

Left Foot: Waaaaaaait, but the ball's on the left siiiiiide!

(Moves to left.)

Left Hand:  I like ponies.

(Right Foot keeps moving right.  Left Foot keeps moving left.)


(Right Hand makes desperate attempt to swing at the ball.  The Left Hand does not help, however, and the ball slaps against the net weakly.)

Right Hand:  Left Hand, you really must make more of an effort to the backhand!  Brain, tell the Left Hand to shape up!
Brain:  Shape up, Left Hand!
Left Hand:  I like ponies.
Right Hand:  I don't care if you like ponies!  Shape up or ship out!
Brain:  Um, you know it can't exactly ship out.  THERE'S NO WATER.
Left Hand: I like ponies.
Brain:  There's another one!  Look!  I don't even need to squint--it's coming straight at us!
Feet: (together)  WE DON'T WANNA.
Right Hand:  Do it anyway!  Who's the boss around here?

(Grumbling, the feet move.  However, Right Foot moves to the left, and Left Foot moves to the right, twisting my body.  The right hand swings and connects, but there is no topspin, and the ball lands before the service line.)

Right Hand:  Wrist!  You HAVE to snap!
Wrist: You're so, like, totes BORing, Right Hand!  All you care about is, like, doing things right!
Brain:  Well DUH.  It's the RIGHT hand!
Left Hand: I like ponies.
Brain: (gently to Right Hand) Maybe you should just give up.
Right Hand: You know what, I think I will.


All Body Parts Together: (lackadaisically)  WhatEVer.
Left Hand: I like ponies.

That's what it's like when I play tennis, and it's even worse when I volley.


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