Ping Pong has always been with me. I’ve played ever since I was five. I used to play with my dad, on the weekends, with one of those at home table top stick-on nets that you can get from your local toy store. I loved it so much at the time, so naturally I just kept playing. Eventually the dad I used to always lose to, started to always lose to me. A year later my dad racked out enough money to get me a ping pong table. I’ll always remember that day, because it was the first time and only time I’ve ever seen my dad cry. I don’t know why he started to tear up when he gave it to me but I like to think that they were tears of joy. Anyway, with that ping pong table, I started to play even more. I had natural talent there was no doubt, so one day my dad decided to invest in that talent. He got me a coach and the nicest equipment he could afford. And now, with that same paddle and that same coach he got me here, somewhere I never thought I’d be.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve always considered myself good at ping pong, maybe even great at it. But, being good and being a top player are two completely different things. Yet I’m here somehow, the semifinals of the national 12-14s championship. 

“Remember Elias you're good and you're better than this kid,” my coach mentioned to me as we were sitting on the bench waiting for the other match to finish. “You’re the best player I’ve ever seen and you better act like it.” 

A lot of people have told me I’m somewhat cold, rude or that I have a blank expression. Multiple times parents have blamed me for taking pity on their kids whether it was in school or tournaments. I never felt that way though, what I felt towards them wasn’t pity but more or less apathy. I never looked down my nose at them, I just simply didn’t care about them. In my scene of competition you always focus on yourself before others and I guess that way of thinking just carried over. 

“Yes sir,” I responded in a somewhat monotone voice. 

“So that's it huh, you're in a position millions of kids your age would kill to be in and all you're going to do is give me a ‘Yes sir’” He said mocking me. “You got a stick up your butt or something Elias? Come on, tell me what’s wrong.” 

Truth be told I had no idea what was wrong with me. Could’ve been a number of things, like the fact that my dad couldn’t be here for this or me having a losing record to who I was about to play. 

“Nothing, just thinking.” 

“Thinking huh.” he said as he turned his head towards me and looked me dead in my eyes. 

“Yeah, my opponent’s tuff and I’m thinking on how to beat him.” I quickly turned my head away from him after saying that. 

“Listen Eli, I've known you for how long now?”

Coach has always been there. Ever since my debut as a competitive player. He knows me the best out of anyone in this world and might be my only friend. He’s short, dark, and slender. I think he’s around 35 but I never asked him. I'm probably only 5’7 and I’m half a head taller than he is. Either way he’s an amazing player, and watching him play is a treat. 

“Nine years?” I said unconfidently.

“It was a rhetorical question, I’m just letting you know that out of everyone in this building right now I know you the best. And I can tell by your body language that you aren’t thinking about your opponent right now.” 

I simply just nodded back.

“I really don’t know what's eating you up inside and if you don’t want to tell me that's fine but all I can say right now is to stay focused.” 

“Coach, does it feel cold in here to you” I said as I wrapped my arms around myself. 

“No Eli! It feels like the AC is broken in here.  Nnow come on, what'son what's got you like this?this.”

“I think I’m nervous.” 

“Everyone gets nervous Eli.”

“I don’t.” That wasn’t really a lie. I’ve never been nervous before, especially this nervous. That was my biggest strength. I was an Iron wall no-one could touch and no-one could break. I never let my emotions get the best of me. I have such a blank expressions I  became known as “The Human Ball Machine” at local tournaments I go to a lot. 

“You're nervous because it’s a big game.” 

“I’ve played plenty of ‘big games’ in the past and never felt like this.”

“Listen to me, you're about to go up in something like 5 minutes. So let me tell you this one last thing before you go up. Your dad isn’t here because he couldn’t come and you know that. But what you might not know is that he gave up a week's worth of dinners to get me and you here. But before we left I promised him that I would make him proud of you, and do you know what he told me?”

“No-”

“He told me there was nothing you could do that would disappoint him. So don’t feel guilty or be getting nervous out there champ. You just have to play like you always do. Play with that impeckible precision and offense like you always do.” He said with a strong voice as he patted me on the back.

“I understand.” It wasn’t but a second later when the speakers came on and I stood up. I grabbed my water bottle and paddle and started towards the table. 

“Remember Eli, just play,” those were the last words he told me before I started to play. Those words were the last things I needed to hear before I could win. 

The match flew by and stayed even. I have a strong offense for sure, but my opponent has an even stronger defense. His footwork is phenomenal and I can’t get anything past him. I lost set one 13-11. Set two began shortly after. Of course by this point I was drenched in sweat, I might have as well been swimming in the ocean. My shirt was so soaked, but what surprised me the most was that my hands were shaking. I didn’t feel nervous but I certainly showed I was. The thought of being nervous made me more nervous. I was distracted every point and it seemed like my opponent was more focused now than ever. I dropped the first five pints in a row all within 5-7 seconds. I was making mistakes I’ve never made before; my grip was off, my feet were slanted, I was leaning too much on my left, and most importantly my breathing was off. Short heavy breaths, as if my breath was trying to run away, as if it was scared. 

It was my serve. I took some time to think. “Why is this happening to me?” I murmured under my breath. At this point I was down 5-0 and seemed like I would lose in another two minutes. I glanced to my right to see my coach looking at me, smiling, supporting me. What was I doing this whole time? What was I worried about? I don’t need to be this worked up. I have everything I need: a best friend, my coach, a loving parent, my dad, and a paddle between my mits. I just needed to play. Just, play.

I got back to my roots. I started to come back. The score was now 7-5 in my opponent's favor but I was winning points again. I was getting past him and I was using my strongest suit, my offense. I kept swinging and kept persevering. I’m good, I know this. I’m amazing, I feel this. My breathing came back to normal and my nerves almost completely calmed. But this breakthrough didn’t make my opponent any worse. If anything it made him better. Constant shuffling and ping pong ball bounces were the only sounds in that whole venue. The whole world was watching me, but most importantly my coach was watching. 

Eventually the score got to 9-8. I was down but I didn't feel down. I was just reborn and felt stronger than ever. As if I was a fortified military base that no country or bomb could get through. I wasn’t going to lose this. I’ve practiced and practiced and practiced for what? To lose in the semifinals? I don’t think so. So I’ll win and I’ll win again and bring home a big check and a trophy with my name on it and I’ll show it to my dad…

A Your standard ping pong match is a best of 3, first to two sets wins. If you were to lose the first set it means that in order for you to win the match would go for three sets. I lost the first set, and this match ended in two.