Watch the Birdy!

~ I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. ~

--Maya Angelou

This is very true.  There’s a group of women in Marblehead that every Monday morning manage to make me feel like I actually know how to play badminton. Make no mistake; this is a complete fantasy on my part.

I know the rules of badminton. I know what makes a point and what does not. Mostly. I know what kind of equipment to use (it’s a racket, I know, shocking isn’t it?) What I do not know, not yet anyway, and not completely, is how to actually play. I rely on these women to tell me where to stand, what the score is, and whether or not I’m in or out, up or back, receiving or serving. And bless them, they do it.

Every Monday morning, even when it’s the same thing they told me the last Monday morning; they still have no objection to telling me again. And again. Honestly, they have to, when it comes to the rules, the score keeping and the strategy, I’m pretty darn dense. And I still have no clue where to stand, but I do know that if I’m on the right side of the court and I’m serving then the score for our side is even. If we served first. Maybe, but don’t quote me on that.

Badminton is not rocket science, but its no easy feat either. At least not for me. And not for nothing, I am not talking about badminton in the backyard with the plastic bird and a sagging net. I’m talking official net heights, specific court dimensions, goose feather shuttlecocks, and rackets that are hand strung.

Badminton is the fastest racquet sport, though players of table tennis would argue their sport is faster. The fastest recorded speed of a badminton bird was over 200 miles per hour. So there. If you’re going to play, you might as well learn to play right. At least that’s what they tell me.

 I have NEVER been athletic. I practically set a record for various injuries, conditions and other circumstances that would excuse me from gym in high school. I knew just how many classes I actually had to dress for to pass and that is all I ever did. I got really creative when it came to ditching gym. I am not the sporty type, not by a long shot. But my family belongs to a badminton club so why not give it a shot?

So I find myself at the club every Monday morning, swatting away at the bird, taking direction and being mentored by these women who have been where I am now. One of them told me that when she started, she never knew where to stand, and had several near misses when her doubles partner came close to hitting her because she was in the wrong place.

I know how that is, back in November I had the audacity to actually sign up for a tournament. A more experienced player took pity on me and agreed to be my partner. I think the bird hit me more than it hit my racket. I didn’t even come close to winning a match, but I was there. On the court, swinging away. My victory that night was that I managed to stay upright and didn’t hit anyone. Go team!

But now I have this group of mentors, these women that instead of competing with me, are willing to teach me and bring me along in the sport. I don’t know how far I will get; I mean I’m still me. I’m still the high school gym class drop out. I’m still the girl that thinks drill team was a sport (hey, they gave me a letter on my jacket for it, I think it counts!) 

But I’m going to keep at it.

This is a tough bunch of women; if I were to give up they just might come after me and kick the snot out of me. Never underestimate the power of a group of fit women with rackets.

I will definitely forget what they told me this week about where to stand. I will forget what the score is, and I will forget how to hit a drop shot. But I will not forget that these women have taken a gym class drop out under their collective wing and at some point will turn me into a player.

Until then, I’m just going to keep showing up and whacking away at it. I’m bound to make at least a few of the shots I try. The ones I don’t land, well we just won’t discuss them. Maybe my racquet needs re-stringing, or the bird was missing a few goose feathers. Yeah, lets go with that.