The badminton life for me (part 1)

I was loudly singing along with the pleasant voice of Ben Howard while the cold small droplets of rain quietly swirled down and rested on my cheek as I wandered the Erasmus University campus. It was half past one in the night and I had been walking for at least twenty minutes with two large bags dangling from my shoulders. My brain was cracking two big questions currently on my mind: one, why do academically schooled people lack the ability to point out clearly where the sportcentrum was and two, had I or had I not mistaken the address of the location? It was cold and wet, my bags were heavy, I was definitely not walking the most efficient route towards my location and frankly, I felt great. Just the thought of two full days of badminton to play, new people to meet and fresh experiences to be had was enough to dismiss everything else as arbitrary. As I finally made human contact again to ask directions (“uhh, it’s there” *points to a building 50 meters further down the road*) I was finally ready for my new adventure. “So you must be Ming.” Yes, yes I am. With a big grin spread across my face I was relocated to the sleeping facilities where I chose the best spot to re-energize myself and slept in.

The next day everyone was woken by gentle songs about waking up (WAKE UP! bldafpcfjoiajaoen MAKE UP! dklaf noewja;lseo SHAKE UP!) but it didn’t take me very long to jump up on my feet and get ready for a full day of fun. At breakfast I randomly joined some guys (from Cuijk… I think) and discussed our badminton background and assessed some pressing matters (what is your favourite fruit?). At the other side of the table an English group was discussing whether “chocolade vlokken” was supposed to be put on bread or used for cereal. I told the guy who was gushing it over his bread he was doing it just fine. At that moment our main protagonists arrived: three guys from my old badmintonclub, Paul, Robert and Sander, so I rushed towards them and gave them a warm welcome. Sander had the brilliant idea of starting with a beer in the morning, so I did what every man would do in that situation and flushed it down along with my milk.

Before the start of the matches we were drilled by a very fanatic work-out instructor, so I obediently jumped and moved along while Paul, Robert and Sander reluctantly swung their limbs around. Then it was time to meet up with my team. We looked glorious. My first match was with Stephan and to my surprise Paul was in the opposition. It took some time for all players to adjust but in the end we were able to take the game in two sets. The second game was an odd one. My teammate was Adam, who looked a bit scruffy, but in retrospect it was probably from the jetlag he was experiencing. Together we played a great game; we were fast and ferocious. I was smartly working the shuttle towards the empty places from all angles while Adam played a powerful and steady game. However, one of our opponents was an old Polish man who had a peculiar routine before serving or receiving that threw us off-rhythm because of the long time it took for him to prepare. So although we won the first set, in the second we lost a bit of focus and the other opponent (I forgot his name, goshdarnit!) was able to aptly push us around with pressure plays, resulting in a third set. We now played more carefully then we’d wanted to, but with great persistence we were able to pull off a win which surged a great sigh of relief in both of us. Good stuff. I won’t bore you with more details, but in the end I won four games and lost two that day (both losses were doubles against an Englishman called Steward who went to lose zero games during the tournament. Tough boy). During lunch I joined the opponent who played with the old man and we discussed the game. He wore glasses and was in his thirties. He had a Polish wife/girlfriend whom he persuaded to eat a sandwich with chocolate sprinkles. It was an endearing sight. Opposite the table we were joined by another Polish man, a friend of the Polish girlfriend whose name I learned to be Ariel (“yes, like the mermaid”). Ariel was soft-spoken, but he looked like a sharp and genuinely nice guy and I came to like him a lot during the limited time I interacted with him.

Another person who I learned to appreciate was Adam, my team partner. He was a cool, laid-back guy who could easily express himself. He also wasn’t too shy to crack a joke now and then and he seemed to enjoy himself in general. The second day we played two more games with each other and in the end we agreed to play a tournament together, just for fun. It’s great to see how relations can spontaneously blossom in such a short time span.

The opposite can be true too. During the first day I was on the tribune a lot because my bag was there and it provided a great overview of the hall. Also present there was the announcer of all the games, a girl named Claudia. Her announcements were characterized by the occasional silences and the “uhmm’s” that accompied them, or sometimes just by laughter in the background. They sure made the announcements more colourful. Anyway, because we spent a lot of time there alone we made some small talk and she seemed like a sweet girl. During the evening our terror trio (plus Pieter-Paul, a friend of theirs who doesn’t play badminton) were nudging me to try to make a pass at a blonde girl, but I told Paul I was more interested in Claudia. Later that evening he pushed me in her direction with a wink and although I didn’t feel like making a move I realized I would get nowhere in life with an attitude like that. So fueled by misjudged confidence that was strengthened by the power of alcohol I tried to persistently make contact with Claudia. At a certain time she was joined by a guy, but I didn’t pay too much attention at him as he seemed a bit dull. In retrospect though, that might’ve been her boyfriend. Whoops. I don’t know for sure, but I do know that the next day we haven’t exchanged another word. So yeah, that’s also how things can develop.

Wow, this post is getting a bit out of hand. I wanted to write a simple but stylistic report about my weekend that I could optionally send to the organization of the tournament to put on the site or something, but it got rather personal. I know I don’t have a lot of readers :P, but is this kind of piece appreciated? It wasn’t my intention to turn it in a diary kind of thing. Still, I think I’ll write about the rest of my awesome endeavors of the weekend (and there is still a lot to be told!) in another post.