The Talking Table Tennis Racket 

It was an exciting day in my table tennis career for the reason that I played against the opponent, DPS Srinagar. The thrill was palpable because I had been practicing for a long time to disappoint them. How well said: practice makes a man perfect. I just followed the line and got it in my favor. When we positioned ourselves against each other, aggression and determination filled the air. It was a friendly smile, followed by stares and aggression. Tick tick, the tussle between wood and ball, a few yells, punches, and gestures fishing for compliments. At the start of the first game, both of us tried to ensure that the other team would lose one point. Losing and winning don’t matter—the words of my coach were echoing in my mind—but, to be honest, winning matters. The table echoed, barked, and roared because it was hit with vigor and verve, and the occasional spin made it even tougher. Both of us tried to find loopholes, but it was not an easy task. I was within me, saying play as long as you can to read my opponent better. We both ended up with a tie in the game without anyone willing to surrender an inch. Every point earned was challenging, as it certainly displayed our concentration and very high reflexes. We could feel the audience; their shouting would raise the tempo after every winning point. I picked up my momentum only in the later stages of the tennis match, when I unleashed a number of storm shots together with some seriously tricky spins that not only completely confused my rival but also rendered him a defeated man. He was eager to read my shots, but luck played a role, and I won the game. It was the moment I can never forget when that tiny ball passed him for the last time, and his miscalculation was enough to register my triumph over him. Those tense nerves and taxed muscles relaxed as the game was over. I friendly-shake hand-aided with a smile impressed one and all because respect is all what the game teaches, and we both displayed the gestures as what sportsmanship asks for. These moments encourage love for the game. The win was a testament to the endless practice hours and sacrifices that led to this very moment. Nothing comes to you for free; every drop of sweat writes history, and this was true for me. This win doesn’t mark my efforts alone; it also marks the encouragement and training of my school. A picture at the end with a winning smile with your coach at your sides marks the day, and a page for the journal and a kiss to paddle with a click for the paper—this is the way hard work pays.