THE SQUASH POET #9

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