Tuesday, January 25, 2011
In another Life
Many moons ago, I was addicted to badminton...no not that long ago!
In the late eighties, having started to play a bit too late to ever be REALLY any good, badminton filled a humongous crater in my life. My two closest friends (who were also my flatmates)departed to get married and I took up with a racquet and shuttlecock.
For a few years, until a few things intervened, I ate, slept and drank badminton.
Even harboured dreams of becoming a Zhang Ning (the world's top player)
Twenty years on, badminton has come back into my life with a bang (or should I say 'smash'?)Premature retirement from the soccer team by my twelve year old son, due to, in his words: "It's no fun anymore," filled me (and I'm no "Tiger Mother") with disappointment and a generous dose of anxiety. What now for him at weekends & midweek, without his training, matches etc?
So for the second time, badminton came to the rescue. Having spotted the box of dusty runner-up plaques and medals in the attic, earned by sweat and tears during all those wannabe Zhang Ning years, he decides on badminton as his sport of choice.
And he's loving it, bashing and swooping with my twenty year old racquet that carried me through many tightly fought matches.
The icing on the cake, though, was when I mentioned his new sport to my coffee buddies and guess what, even though we are meeting up for years, the four of us turn out to be closet, former badminton lovers!
One morning a week, the walls of our local sports centre now enclose the frantic bashings of a resurrected shuttlecock.