THE SQUASH POET #2

My enigmatic acquaintance, “The Squash Poet”, has sent me another verse. This one has actually appeared on the SquashSite website before but I’m sure not many of you have read it. However, many of you may be able to relate to it since it is all about hitting the ‘nick’. For those of you who don’t know, the ‘nick’ is where the side wall and floor meet and if you can make the ball bounce directly in that crack, it makes it virtually impossible to retrieve. I guess “The Squash Poet” has a little obsession with it…

With a deft and subtle flick
You could master the wicked trick
Make your game look cool and slick
With racquet work so quick
Slam the ball into the nick
And guarantee you’d never lose

But my brain is slow and thick
And like some horrid nervous tic
I keep on shooting bricks
And like a desperate alcoholic
I am really terminally sick
With a case of the “Squash Nick Blues”!

The Squash Poet


“Squash Nick Blues”
Sung to the tune of “The Sound of Silence” Simon and Garfunkel

Here I am on court two,
Obsessed with what I want to do,
I don’t care if I lose the game,
All I want is the instant fame,
The amazing feat of smashing the ball dead,
Fills my head,
It’s the Squash Nick Blues.

Every shot I try to find,
That damn nick but I’m so blind,
Impossible angles at every turn,
It’s a mental disease - I just wont learn,
So I just hit harder and continue to hack and hack,
And hope for crack,
It’s the Squash Nick Blues.

I even seem to have to nerve,
To go for it off every serve,
Aiming where the wall and floor meet,
Damn, I missed again by three feet!
And another point lost thanks to my stupid greed,
There’s really no need,
For the Squash Nick Blues.

“Fool” they say, “You do not know,
That your racquet technique really blows”,
When the point is done I don’t care anymore,
Unless the ball is rolling along the floor,
I remember once long ago slotting the nick right in,
But it hit the tin,
It’s the Squash Nick Blues.

And then one day I bowed and prayed,
At the best nick shot I ever made,
A volley reverse backhand boast overhead,
When it hit the floor it came out dead,
I screamed and yelled but realized with a groan,
I was playing alone,
And forever stuck in…The Squash Nick Blues.

The Squash Poet