Why is Ping Pong in the Olympics? Everyone has a sport that
makes them say “Why is this here?” Ping Pong (table tennis) is mine.
My first introduction to ping pong was at age
15 when my dad bought a table to set in the basement. He lived alone at the
time and had a decent game room size area, perfect for ping pong. It was a long
room with close sides that would have been miserable for pool. Any time we
visited it was the first thing my brothers and I did. We rushed down the plastic
covered steps to the linoleum floor as the temperature became instantly cooler.
That musty basement smell that is part slick pipes part laundry room invaded
the senses. It had a simple L shaped design with an old pinewood bar tucked into the
corner. I could never decide if the bar had been used by the previous owners.
It looked like a set piece for a high school play more than a functioning
liquor cabinet.
The Ping Pong table entertained us and anyone who happened
to visit. Johnsons are fierce competitors. As such, paddles and nets were
frequently damaged from tantrums. Ping Pong balls got crushed regularly and the
walls developed holes and marks from items hurdled in their direction. If any
one brother developed a superior attitude or displayed a fist pump or flexed
muscles in a way considered braggadocios, a scrum ensued resulting in even more
damage to the walls. Shouting in joyful fits, after a win, was the equivalent
of flipping a bat after a home-run. One gets even in the rematch.
There is
always a rematch.
Fights were common because…well…competition. The house survived despite the abuse the
basement, some sucker agreed to buy the place when it went up for sale. I
always thought I was a decent table tennis player until I joined the Army and
realized I was below average. The years of charging down the steps gleefully to
slap the little white ball back and forth hadn’t paid off as much as I
imagined.
Being competitive doesn’t a winner make…
Many of the guys I played against in the barracks had also
grown up with a table in the basement or garage. They were quicker to return
serves, aimed for corners and hit much harder--ditto for college. Every move they
made was faster, sharper. I was worse than most of my friends.
After college I did a stint teaching English in China and
found out what happens when a country treats a recreational activity with
tenacity and purpose. I wasn’t completely naive to the excellence associated
with Chinese table tennis, but I was surprised how deep into the culture the
roots go. It isn’t a stretch to say nearly anyone in the country can compete at
a high level, at least what I call a high level. I don’t mean everyone is an
Olympic quality athlete, that’s silly. I mean that everyone has experience with
and exposure to ping pong at some level. The same way that a nineteen year old
boy raised on a farm in the Midwest knows how to load and fire a shotgun. Country life demands familiarity with firearms and Ping Pong skills for Chinese kids equals hunting skills for Texans.
The Chinese school was a highly rated private school for
local and foreign kids, similar to boarding schools in New England. It had a
poorly maintained track for running, basketball courts, and outdoor ping pong
tables. This was a first for me. The tables were made of concrete and used a 2x4
plywood strip like a net splitting the table in half. To pass the time I used
to watch the Chinese kids during their breaks play. It took about 3
seconds to know I had NO chance. It wasn’t that they were better as much as
they adopted a different way to play the game. It was wildly different. The
players move around a lot more looking to score with short swings and quick
stabbing shots instead of the full arm extension swing I used.
Gone was the back and forth volleying that I expected.
Volleying was anathema to these kids.
The players held the broad part of the paddle in their palm
like an over sized cell phone. They didn’t use the handle. I rarely followed the
ball with my eyes once it left the paddle. It moved too quick and I
was never sure who had scored when the kids went chasing after a roller. Every
kid seemed to be an expert at this game I only had marginal knowledge of.
I can’t bring myself to watch a sport on tv that feels more like
an activity for competitive siblings (also see bowling) than a medal worthy
affair. Not that I don’t appreciate excellence and dedication in all areas of
life, table tennis just ranks a little lower on my scale. Besides, when NBC
shows table tennis events I have to imagine how many interesting sports I’m missing.
Mercifully they don’t show it too often.
I think a camera placed in the corner
of a family game room would be more exciting. We could call it, An Evening
with the Johnsons. Americans would tune in for the cursing, the throwing
and breaking, the stomping off, the argued calls and most of all…….the rematch.
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