Week 2 - Racquetball

A busted-up left wrist can't keep me off the court, so I headed over this evening to battle Big Dave, Medium Dave, and Lefty Mike.  Big Dave has dropped 12 pounds in the last month, and all of a sudden the dude's got game.  He's always had a Howitzer right arm, so throw in some new-found quickness and I was quickly behind 1-4.  Enough of that...time to run his ass around.  Left - right - lob shot to the back - dink to the front corner.  His Coolmax shirt was soaked and I was outta there after a couple of games without any welts on my ass or leg from his missiles.  Whew.  He would win this league every time if he could drop 40 pounds.  That ain't gonna happen, so I'm good for the foreseeable future.

Medium Dave is the 'racquetball coordinator' for the club - meaning he's a mid-level player with a love for the game.  He also plays a guitar like a pro and teaches Lyza once a week - small town, ya know?  We threw it down for a game, and the key to beating Medium Dave is keeping it light....laughing every now and then, complimenting him on his shots - and before he knows it he's having a good time but he gets behind and its over.

Lefty Mike is a son of a bitch.  Fast, loves to play defensive ceiling ball all night, and out of nowhere can get on a roll by controlling the middle of the court and forcing you to the back by cutting off your angles.  He got off to a good start on me, so I drilled a ball into his back - apologized - walked off the court for some water, and resumed whizzing shots close to him until he started shying away from the middle which opened up crosscourt shots for me.  Crosscourt, down the line, cross court, down the line.  Lefty didn't know where the ball was going, and after a few F-bombs...it was over.  

So, 6 matches down, 6 wins, and 6 matches to go before the next club tourney.  666.  Hmmm.  I am a little devil on that court.  No cell phones, no kids, no budgets, nobody but him and me and no excuses.