Twisted dreams.

Yesterday, the gods must have been delighted with the residents of Queens Park. On the day the Park was organizing Queens Park Day, the sun shone brilliantly. A mild breeze kept the temperature to a manageable level, and this meant the crowd turned out in full force. The Park was bustling.

The lion share of the entertainments were focused towards the children. There were donkey rides, football tutorials, cat race, rock climbing, comedy shows, and beauty contest for ten-year-olds. The adults had their fare share of amusement also.

I arrived very early. At nine, the tennis courts welcomed all who’d turned up. A tennis tournament was being held. The entry was free.

I warmed up, hitting few balls, and was arranged to tackle a fifty-year-old veteran. We were playing only a set, and the idea was to have fun rather than take it seriously. But when you're playing a match, your winning mentality takes over, and any idea of having fun and losing, is thrown out of the window. I took no chances and swept fifty-year-old dad of five children aside in no time.

Then, after a breather, I took on another elderly gentleman. I was like Roger Federer in front of him. I felt sorry for him as I hit one winner after another, and finished the match.

Then, I came up with a fit, tall, and young girl. I’d never seen her before, and I was very nervous starting out. Losing to a member of female sex was out of question. Just imagine the amount of ridiculous I’d suffer, if I told my friends of the defeat.

But, she was a very good player. We traded shots after shots, and I was actually amazed by how competitive she was. She really wanted to win. I was terrified.

She ran me around the court. I did the same. It was tit-for-tat. The feisty girl had a double-handed backhand and grunted with every shots. She served well enough, although they weren’t very powerful.

When the game reached halfway point, the scores were level. One who’d raised their game, who made few mistakes, would take it. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like Roger Federer. I remembered Billie Jean King and her tennis match against a male player. She’d beaten him. She was hailed all over the world. The battle of sexes had gone to Billie Jean, a female.

I quickly banished all these thoughts. It wouldn’t be happening to me. I was better than my opponent.

I then tossed a ball high and served. She hit a good reply. I had to run hard and stretch to return the ball. And OUCH! While running I twisted my ankle. The pain was immediate and very excruciating. I even cried as I fell down

She ran over and helped me limp over to a bench. After five minutes rest I tried to walk again. But the ankle had swollen and I couldn’t rest my weight on it. Returning to playing tennis was out of question. We shook hands and abandoned the match.

In a way, I was glad I’d twisted the ankle. I wasn’t sure I’d win the match. It was all sweat and fun, but losing was unthinkable. I’m sure she didn’t mind also. Her feisty nature meant defeat would have caused an enormous dent to her ego. Nobody won. That, I guess was the best result.

In the afternoon, a band was playing blues and jazz music in the park. There were food stalls, and for the revelers, beers were available, although all at exorbitant prices. I limped around and enjoyed everything.

A great day.