Chucklehead

The Vespa is running fine and there is nothing of note to say about it. I have ridden it to work a couple times this past week and the only area of concern occurred on St. Patrick’s Day. Upon riding into town I saw a long line of college students at 7AM lined up to get into “The Phryst”, a local watering hole that deals in green beer. The line was long, almost a block long. I immediately muttered an “oh shit” at the thought of leaving the Vespa parked along the street on this day that guaranteed a larger than usual number of drunks. I imagined the Vespa lying on its side covered in green puke.

I figured that if we could stand up to some snow and ice we could manage a few hundred green beer drinkers. The Vespa waited patiently all day and was in fine condition for the ride home.

Now on to “Chucklehead”.

In a previous life (30 years ago) I was a serious table tennis player. That’s ping-pong for those of you not fully informed on the nature of the 40mm ball…. A few weeks ago my college roommate from the early 1970’s, Joe Tarantino, called and asked if I wanted to play in the Pennsylvania Team Championships. I told him the last time I played was in 1976 at the National Team Championships at Cobo Hall in Detroit. “It’s just for fun” was all I needed to agree. The Vespa has been wondering where I’ve been the past two days—I was cheating on it, playing table tennis, an obsession from my past.

Obsession is not an overstatement. I nearly flunked out of college because the 30 hours a week of practice sort of gets in the way of any academic activity. Add travel to tournaments and the general exhaustion that goes along with playing so much — you get the picture.

Sam Steiner, the tournament director and old friend, estimated my player rating at 1600. At my best my rating was 1810. This puts me in the intermediate level of play, a mere humble shadow of the professional players. Think of it as the difference between Lance Armstrong and a really good local rider. As it turns out Sam was overly generous in his assessment. I was thinking I would fall nearer 1200 and the two days of play was witness to that. I did manage to win a few games and even one match. And more importantly I didn’t hurt myself. I’m writing now in the glow of two Extra Strength Tylenols. Remember, I’m talking table tennis, not ping-pong. You can get carbon fiber rackets now.

Now, I promise, on to Chucklehead.

Thirty-four teams were gathered with play underway on 20 Stiga Expert tables. I was playing the first match (and only match) I would win during the entire tournament this morning when a loud cry echoed through the gymnasium – “You Chucklehead!!!”. John Rameriz of the South Park Table Tennis Club of Pittsburgh deserves credit for the comment. It was a cry of some performance frustration and immediately transported me back in time to other tournaments and other yells. I remembered in an instant all the good times I had so long ago. And that brings me to the point of this blog entry. Finding a balance in life.

The desire to ride parallels the desire I felt to play. And a little spark is glowing again. Hmmm, how could I manage riding and playing? Maybe I can ride to tournaments, off to New York and Maryland and Indiana and Minnesota by Vespa. And I know if I start playing again I’ll want to play well which means practice. And my brain is off to the races, chewing on the problem. Riding, work, family, chores, photography, garden, school – can I add table tennis to that mix? How much am I entitled to?

For now I’m just going to let it go, let God show me the path. I have the coming week off from work and I plan to do a little riding, a little napping, and little hanging out with Kim. And I’m sure I won’t be able to avoid the desire to think about table tennis.

I’m such a chucklehead.