Scratched Pride

Maybe I shouldn't have lent Zero my racquet. Even though it was considerably old and worn out, it wasn't in bad shape. I'm upset that he went to deliberately kick and then scratch the paint on the frame. Hey c'mon!...I've never treated your tennis racquets with such irreverent attitude.

Seeing the badminton racquet in that poor condition reminded me of a time long ago, when a boy, 12 years old had wild dreams of becoming a professional shuttler. He had sweet memories of playing with his arch-rival/best friend and inimitable doubles partner. There was also the pain and anguish of losing the inter school tourney. Not forgetting, the joys of being champions of the interclass badminton competition. Oh yeah and then there was also the selection trials. The bitter taste of rejection and acknowledgement of acceptance. All of this etched on one stupid cheap out-of-production racquet.

If you can't even respect that...then you're not a sportsman. Never was and never will be.

So what and I going to do with that stupid racquet? I'm going to hang in my room and retire it cause it's too precious to let some ignorant person destroy it.