Bad

Badminton is the one sport in which I am competent enough. By “competent” I mean “able to do what seem like smashes and what actually are occasional accidental drop shots that kiss the edge of the net.” It’s the sport that saw me grow up. Thanks are largely due my father who coached the local high school team and had me and my siblings as his prized protégés. We failed him, but like all other best dads (because everyone claim to have the “best dad in the world”), he doesn’t mind.

I can still remember that termite-infested book circa 1980s, where I first read about the goose feather-busting sport (I bet you didn’t know they’re goose feathers, ha!). It was an introductory book to various sports, ranging from archery to zwimming. At 10 years old with thick kinky hair, I found it interesting and even really read about those different sports.

Sure, I read much about badminton, but archery also hit me - bulls eye - and even had me create bow and arrows made of bamboo sticks and thick nylon ropes. I was Robin Hood for some time, until, I think (I can’t really remember), the bow snapped into two and one of the arrows almost hit me (it probably did and caused me mild amnesia, that’s why I can’t remember now). The Archery-Daryl fling folded up faster than it came. It was badminton - just there, always ready to excite me when all is lousy and sluggish and wet - which endured the test of time and circumstance. It was true lurve.

So when I played badminton with Jayson yesterday, I was like a pig released from the sty - except that the pig can’t hold a racket and smash the shuttlecock to smithereens. Okay, bad analogy, but you get the vague idea.

It had been more than three months since the last time I played badminton. I gulped a glass of Extra Joss (because it was a lazy Sunday afternoon), fueled myself with lots of optimism, then I lost to Jayson - 15-11, 9-15, 11-15. What a way to boost my self-steam and trample on my pride. I had a difficult time feigning a grin. Just kidding.

But I had fun. And I realized that like in any other sport, exercise is a must before challenging your friend not to cry too loudly when you’ve finished defeating him at the court in straight sets. I forgot badminton is an endurance sport; I got tired after the second set. After a couple of well-placed shots, Jayson lorded the court and won. (Actually, I let him win. Just kidding.)

Anyway, there’s a sort of sports fest coming up in two weeks and I’m competing there. Might as well exercise now and eat well and get enough sleep. Dreaming again, Daryl, dreaming again…