Love that smack!

I finally played squash again yesterday! My squash racquet had been hibernating atop my cupboard and grown old with cobwebs and whatever else that died in between the dust.

It became sort of a sports marathon with my brother, though it was not planned that way. We started with trying to bugger off the other with badminton before we were left panting and heading down to the squash courts.

Poor him, he doesn't play squash but was nice enough to let me force him to joining me. Stephen my other brother would never had let me force him do anything. Anyway, I suck at squash. After all this while, I'm clumsy, can't bent and run across the court with heavy thump thump thumps like a baby elephant.

But still the beautiful feeling you get when the ball hits the sweet spot on the racquet is addictive. Addictive enough to keep me bending over to pick up misfired balls and reserving again, and again and again. Until finally, I see an uncle waiting outside my court.

I got out, giving way to him but he insisted I join him. How could I refuse when on an adrenaline rush? Though I know I sucked, very few chances I have to play squash. So I gamely when in, and got whooped by the uncle who was merrily laughing watching me panic at all his drop shots.

Embarassing indeed. But I so would do it again.