Balls to the Wall: The Unbelievable Lightness of Being….A Squash Player by Alan Stapleton October 27, 2015
I wrote this article, because I knew not what to write.
Battered by financial year-end business bashings, bent by budgets and
tangled into new targets, I stared, frustrated, at a blank, Writer’s
Blocked Wall. This article and Year-end reports called me. Deadlines
dead-lined themselves at me. The seemingly unbearable heaviness
of corporate being weighed down on me. A phone call… “You got a
court? …What time? Yip, I’ll be there. Maybe a bit late, but I’ll be
there…” I snuck out, muddled my way through the mid-afternoon
Port Elizabeth traffic, and in 20 minutes, we were stretching onto the
courts. They echoed in silence as we warmed up.
45 minutes later, having driven, dropped, lobbed, schemed, screamed and
sweated, we emerged. Yes, I had won, and that is always good but it was
the cut-and-thrust of the contest that counted. That, had taken us away
from the world and lighted our load. Salty sweat dribbled from my nose
into a frosty-glassed beer .I sat back, closed my eyes …That was good.
But this Sport Elizabeth article bugged me. What can I write about?
Deadline is tomorrow?
A light flickered in my mind. I had been reading Milan Kundera’s “The
Unbearable Lightness of Being “….my thoughts drifted. That light shone
brighter
Kundera’s novel is physically light, but heavy in philosophical
thought. He explores the lightness of being, questions the lack of
ultimate meaning in life, in searching for momentary beauty. While that
45 minutes could be interpreted as “momentary beauty”, the package of
Squash offers far more than that.
As we muzzled over our beers – a dribble of players started oozing into the courts. We were about to witness something special.
Young and old, some creaking, others screeching. Some bore new
equipment – glistening racquets, squeaky new shoes, gym vests. Others,
laboured under the weight of their dusty, wooden-framed antiques,
patched bags, bandaged knees, rugby shorts and baggy tee shirts.
Vintage stuff. With them, came wives, husbands, children, friends, and
colleagues. As rules were read, boxes of brightly coloured corporate
shirts were unpacked, sized and fitted. Under the WEE policy, all teams
have to include a woman. Late Coming is a heinous offence, and Early
Departures, frowned upon. The wearing of new squash shoes could also
see some veritable punishment. The matches are short – 25 minutes. But
non-stop stuff. And if you have not played for 8 years, or are a
virtual beginner, 25 minutes can feel like a lifetime. This Mr Kundera,
is no momentary beauty.
No, this was not a high powered inter-provincial tournament. This was
the Crusaders Corporate League where 10 Corporates, annually come
together. From their squashed air-conditioned luxurious offices, they
had carefully selected and called upon players to represent them over
the next 6 weeks. Some are regular players, others, squash virgins, and
then there are those, who sometime in their misty pasts have dabbled in
the game.
And so, they gathered at the moat of The Crusaders Squash Castle. Teams
of 5 players from Investec, Old Mutual, MDA Architects, PLU, San
Miguel, Mazars, Kerrygold, ECM, Rhino Plastics, and trotting behind,
The Castle Lite Striders from SA Breweries. For them, this was all
about the unbeerable Liteness of Being! Bolstered by some top players,
and some promising juniors, there was some quality stuff to imbibe and
imitate. There was also some squiggly, squonky stuff, and lots of
huffing, puffing and panting. Freshies, hot shots (Ramy Ashour – you
could pick up some ideas here) and frantic fetching were all part of a
sheer unadulterated joy de vivre, kiddies-playground stuff filled with
competitive fun. No markers, no queries, no arguments, no fights.
Classic encounters there were, a-plenty. Leanne, a virgin from a
previous year, who had improved enormously, had one against 10 year old
Marco. And this year’s virgin, Anele, known to all, as Ace, resplendent
in green, swished, swayed, and dived into a puddled dribble of sweat.
The support was even more impressive. From far and yonder they came -
Nigeria, Spain, London, even East London - colleagues, family and kids.
The kids, they had a ball. Coked-up and fully-Simba’d, they cheered and
clapped, sitting on dad’s shoulders or Mom’s laps, giggling at the
tangled contortions into which their daddies and mommies twisted
themselves. And when there was an opening, they squirrelled onto the
courts, to bash their own little league.
By 8pm, the matches were done, early enough for some bed-time reading,
but also early enough for some fun time where the fearsome
Fines-master, Neale Emslie, politely punished those who had wandered
from the straight and narrow. Popular PE minstrel, Claire Venn and
squash-playing rocker, Justin Horn entertained, and players then
feasted in mirth and merriment. But behind all the iron-curtained
Branding, through the Corporate network, secrets and shares were
shared, friends found, and doors and ideas opened… for future business.
Nightly they left, sometimes early, sometimes late. The morning-after
produced heavy heads and stiffened bodies and they waited…. in
anticipation for mention in The Corporate Chronicles that were
published, early, or late the next day, depending on the scribe’s
departure time
Scores were logged, but nobody really looked. The winners will take
away their miniature trophied courts for office bragging rights. Some
will have been converted and will return for their weekly squash
communion. Others will pack away their weapons, and continue with their
daily grinds. But they will all leave, filled with at least, some
Lite-hearted memories that will give a little more meaning to Life. The
clearing of the mind, the calories lost and seeming lightness of the
body, the light-hearted laughter. Now, I know why I wrote this article.
Milan Kundera – you should have played squash.
Your novel, The Unbelievable Lightness of Being … a Squash Player, would have been a winner.
