Chapter 303: Amongst the native bush are tennis courts

 

I approach a ceaseless flowing torrent of cars. It is dangerous to blithely and merrily jump into this stream of cars. I watch and wait for an empty road. I warily cross as I gaze uproad watching for the next cars to come arrowing down the road.

I breathe deeply. I have made it across. I am now on the Domain. An island of green. An area of native flora and fauna. Everywhere the same tree flowers. The native hopbush  has been flowering this time for thousands of years.  The birds that feed on the nectar have been doing that forever. It is their country.  The light filters down through the trees and surrounds me. In contrast to the uplifting flowers and birds is a dead possum in the gutter. Smells bad. Reminds me that we are intruding in their land and hitting them with our cars.  

Other major cities have an old central area swamped and covered by a new city. New buildings. Not Hobart. Central Hobart has an area of native bush. Native trees. Wallabies, possums and birds.

I approach the tennis courts. Two people loiter, bounce balls, stretch their legs and swing racquets. I am number three. We all look up the hill. peering for number four. Who will it be? We watch the fourth person walk down the hill and enter the tennis courts.

The fourth person starts us dancing, skipping, running, stretching, jumping, grunting, muttering and breathing deeply.  We are unaware of the birds, trees and flowers surrounding us.

We all wear different clothes. Colourful. Flexible. Neat and tidy. Sunglasses, caps. Water bottles wait by our bags.

One lady smashes a volley away. Very pleased.

One ball hits the top of the net, then thinks about which side to fall on. It falls on one side and on the other side are two thankful and gracious people.

Between points we glance up at the clouds surrounding the Mountain. Where is the wind coming from? How strong is it? Is it going to rain?

Our first set finishes with a shaking of racquets then talk. Should we go for revenge or change partners?

10:00 o’clock. Morning tea. Birthday cake. Talk of grandkids. How you playing? A lady stands and reads out the roster after the break. She says who will play with who, against who on each court.

I listen to the roster. I listen for my name and court number. When I arrive at my court I will discover   the others. Every week is different. Every week somebody gets to play against and with me. Somebody different has to think about how to beat me. Where to hit the ball. Deep or short. Fast or slow. High or low. Spinning or not.

I love the idea of playing with anybody. Not only playing with my mates. Accepting everybody and anybody.

Walk back over the Domain. My legs feel heavier than before. I make an effort to lift one leg. And then the other one.

Birds forage on the ground for grass seeds. They glance at me; ignore me and continue eating.

Back over the highway into the mélange of houses. Open my front gate. Home to my place to rest. My refuge.

Time for me to think about tennis. What should I have done today? What can I work on? What can I do to play better next time? Well next time I will…