Thursday, May 31, 2012


I don’t think anyone of us has not had the experience of playing someone with an enormous and dangerous swing. We spend most of the time on court worrying about decapitation, future dental work and rhinoplasty, rather than concentrating on the game. No doubt we have sacrificed points, if not games and matches, in order to keep all 206 bones intact. The Squash Poet describes his experience below.

We are all told to clear after playing the ball
Allow complete access to hit the front wall
And permit a straight line from where they stand
With a normal sized swing either back or forehand
But enough is enough when my life is at stake
Wondering just how many bones you will brake
When in order to clear I now have to dive
Over the glass wall just so I can survive!

The Squash Poet

Wild Swing
(Sung to the tune of "Wild Thing" by Tone Loc)

Workin’ with the pro, months on end, costs a packet
So I can learn to hit a ball without havin’ to hack it
Practice hard and lose some weight my pro was recommendin’
I didn’t stop until I dropped and thought my life was endin’
At last I was ready to take on an opponent
Thought I knew all there was except for one component
Steppin’ on the court felt more like a boxin’ ring
‘Cause I wasn’t trained and got viciously maimed from his mammoth lethal wild swing!

Wild swing
Wild swing

Standin’ on the ‘T’, I never felt so afraid
I was horrified that he swung so wide like a helicopter blade
Even in the warm-up I had to swerve and dodge and duck
But it didn’t take two points before his graphite weapon struck
I felt like I’d been trampled by a herd of buffaloes
As the head of his stick felt like a brick being shoved right up my nose
All that he could say to me was, “Hey, you broke this thing”
Lying immobilized, I apologized for not avoidin’ his wild swing.

Wild swing
He had the biggest wild swing
Wild swing
Please baby baby please

Took a five minute break to regain my senses
And this time I was prepared wearing a helmet for my defenses
But the rest of my body was exposed to his guillotine
I thought I’d died as he smacked my side and maybe ruptured my spleen
The very next rally I heard this massive crack
As his crazy backhand left its brand in the middle of my back
“Hey” he said with a smirk, “You made me hit the tin”
“Of course” I said with remorse, “it’s got nothin’ to do with your wild swing”.

Wild swing
Killin’ me with your wild swing
Please baby baby please

Playin’ on was stupid but now I felt much calmer
Cause now I was clad from head to toe in full body armor
I still did not want to be struck and just to make sure
Every time he slapped the ball I would collapse and hit the floor
He’d pump his fist and act so proud at his own racquet skills
As he kicked my ass with zero class three games to my nil
Then he planned to shake my hand while actin’ like a king
But up I strolled and knocked him out cold with one big wicked wild swing!

Take that!
Ever heard of a ‘let’ call?
You’re freakin’ nuts
Take a squash lesson
Or two, or three, or four
Wild swing

The Squash Poet

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