I am the Camp Taji Table Tennis Champion. I don’t normally talk about myself or brag but in this case I must. After all an accomplishment of this nature deserves to be shouted from the roof tops!
What does it take to be a Champion? Well of course it takes cat like reflexes, nerves of steel, the endurance of a shark, “cornejo” (cunning), heartless perseverance, balance and the heart of a Champion.
A little bit of snake and a lot of psychologist. Getting so deep into your opponents head that he can’t play without becoming a bundle of nerves. It is almost sad to watch these young bucks crumble and fall before my onslaught of ferocious forehands, violent overhead slams and cunning drop shots. Placing shots from corner to corner, side to side and watching them run futilely from side to side always a little behind the play. Watching and toying with their movement and emotions until you can practically see the tears well up and the sweat flows. Their sticky shirts and sweaty palms betray their lack of physical conditioning. Pitiful.
I have had my challengers. Baby Face, my LT starting off smiling with his hand in his pocket and bit by bit having to work harder and harder finally objecting to this point and that score. Some will do anything to try to distract me and diminish my victory time after time. He complains, he smiles and laughs it off like it is no big deal. But it eats at him day and night. That is pretty obvious.
SGT P71Y, which is like P90X (the workout program) but not as hard and not as tough said “I can beat him before he gets to 5!” Sure, he ended up crying in his beer (non-alcoholic). He fretted and worried and plotted his comeback. He challenged me time and again but still he comes close but I close him out with a clever return, an un-returnable serve and a final gentle topspin which he swings at…and you can hear the baseball radio announcer say, “…swing and a miss…strike three, and that retires the side”.
The PAO does a great job whining, pleading, and not understanding that I am just better than he is. It is almost pitiful watching a grown man cry. But in a strange perverse way I derive pleasure from his misery, I am not gonna lie. Knockin’ down, bangin' them across the net as the score rolls up 3-11 then 4-15 then 20 to 13 and the game is OVER. Another victory for me; The Champion of Taji!
Let me get in a quick word about the championship quality ping pong table. You can pay for your professional grade aluminum table and spend $1400.00. But our table is home made with care and precision by an expert woodworking craftsman. The care he took carefully selecting the right plywood and then sawing and nailing the two by fours into place. Bit by bit this object of beauty and envy took shape. Our crack staff gathered the requisite materials to sand and then finish the playing surface. True master craftsmen at work!
It sounded like this: “You need to get three levels of sand paper; 120 grit, 240 and then 320. You must sand in between coats and paint between each one. Make sure you clean off the surface carefully in between sandings.”
“What is sand paper? I mean, I know what sandpaper is….but like where do I get that? And three coats? Really?” This is the way the youth of today speak. Where was the training from the Uncle, neighbor or wood shop instructor? Do grown men (I use the word loosely because obviously you can’t be a grown man and not know the basics of wood preparation for painting or varnishing. Can you?
The table was sanded once and painted once with green paint. Why only once? “Oh. That is all the paint we had. I couldn’t find any more sand paper.” Then one Soldier (P71Y) carefully placed the white lines on the table. As you know the table is 9 feet long so they cut one 8 foot sheet of plywood in half and then cut one foot from another to have three pieces with two joints 6 inches either side of the net. When the table was placed in the room and the top put on it became obvious that there was a problem. But nobody wanted to wait to play. We just had lines running left to right instead of up and down. Sure it can be a little distracting with lines across the middle of the playing surface; sure the tabletop rests gently on the solid 2x4 and 4x4 base with the unsecured joints causing the occasional errant bounce and carom. But the game is the thing! These little distractions just make it that much better and make us that much more prepared. After all we are in a war zone!
There are some in the office and at Taji who want to tear me down; they want to diminish my successes and victory through snide comments. Comments like, “Hey! I beat you!” ignoring the handicap that I play with. Pretending that they won because they scored more points, like that is the standard we work by to determine a Champion. No. That isn’t it! And I am not going to let my Championship be diminished by a bunch of gutter snipes complaining about little details. I won. If you don’t want to follow the Taji rules then go play somewhere else.
My overhand topspin closeout smash is un-returnable except by those that don’t really play but merely act as a back board. Shot! Backboard returns; smash…backboard return; clever shot …backboard return. That isn’t playing the game; that is just reflexes at work. They know who they are. No bitterness here; I know where the anger and childishness lies. Look: If you can’t stand the heat either practice and get better or be quiet. I don’t know how else to say it!
Let me summarize this whole thing because some people get confused by simple titles and statements of fact. I am the “Age Group Champion of Taji (BDE S4/ALOC)” in the over 50 category. I am the BEST! I am the Greatest! I look like a butterfly and smash like a bee! They often compare me to Mohammed Ali and Quonqzihi Phoungshitzatso (infamous table tennis player from Tlbing Tlins, near the Forbidden City) in mainland China. And for good reason! Ever see “Crouching Tiger and Hidden Dragon”? See! If you can’t make the connection you need to get in touch with your inner Chi.
I even received a challenge from JBB (Joint Base Balad) from their reigning Champion CPT Chuckie. I beat him night after night back at Los Alamitos while rehabbing my injured knee. Now that he has had a year to practice and refined his miserable game he actually thinks he can take me. A young Captain with more testosterone than sense; I see them come and I watch them go; mostly in tears with a great wailing and gnashing of teeth. “Woe is me!” they cry and put on sackcloth and cover their head in ashes. “Woe is me!” (Somebody has been reading their Bible!)
When I play CPT Elliot I play him left handed. He doesn’t even notice and takes undue pleasure when he wins a game. I haven’t the heart to tell him. So then my mind gets focused and I drive him from the court. When he gets close I smile and I want to say “You are wonderful! You are marvelous!” expecting him to ask me why I am smiling. But I know something he doesn’t know. I am not left handed!
So I issue a challenge to all comers. Come to Taji and challenge me! If you can beat Baby Face then maybe I will deign to let you challenge me for my Championship Belt. Have you heard of the “Rumble in the Jungle” or the “Thrilla in Manila”? Well come and play in the “Tussle in Taji” or at least get to play the “Hajji of Taji”.
I AM the Table Tennis Champion of Taji. Come and get me!
