My dad pulled into the parking lot of a red and white brick building. “Here, we are. I think you’ll have a lot of fun here.”
“Wow, that’s a big building!” I exclaimed. It was so many car lengths long and several car lengths high.

“Yeah, it is.” My dad smiled sympathetically. He helped me remove my seatbelt and led me through the first door then up the stairs.

The smell of hardwood, rubber, plastic, and sweat filled the air. A soft golden light filtered through the trees outside and through the grimy windows. The sounds of balls bouncing and men shouting echoed across the floor.

The tables - there were so many of them. Nice, sleek, polished ping-pong (I learned that it was called table tennis later) tables lay across the floor, each one separated by the fancy black boarding that I had only ever seen on the games on tv.

“Chào chú.” A muscular young man with a goatee ran towards my father, a paddle still in his hand. He had a green tee-shirt from the last community event.

“Chào cháu.” My dad shook the man’s hand.

“And who’s this?”

“That’s my son.”

The man lowered himself to talk to me. “Hi, I’m Vinh, what's your name?” 

“C-chào Chú Vinh. My n-name is Dan,” I muttered. I waved my hand lightly and quickly lowered it.

He waved at me, lightly tousled my hair, and went back to talking to my dad while I tried to figure which hair went where.

After a while, my dad finished talking to Chú Vinh. “Wait here for a bit while I play with him.”

“You’re gonna win, right?”

“You bet.” My dad spun his paddle on his finger and headed to the tables.

My dad hit the ball effortlessly. His height seemed to allow him to cover every inch of the table, and he could put the ball any corner that he wanted.

I pictured myself in his shoes. I could see the table in front of me, the ball, where my opponent was -- and where he wasn’t. I scored point after point, defeating opponent after opponent. I saw myself raising the faux gold trophy that I had seen my dad bring home so many times before.

Boom! My dad slammed the ball into the table, sending it spiraling past his opponent and into the boarding. “All right, that’s eleven points, making my record 32-1.”

He shook hands, waved goodbye, and jogged back towards me. “See? You didn’t have to wait too long,” he grinned.

“Wow, that was awesome! You curved the ball around him and he hit it super high and you slammed it back down at a zillion miles per hour and the ball bounced up and hit the ceiling and broke!” I exclaimed.

“Well, I’ve been playing longer than he has.” My dad pulled out an old paddle from his bag and gave it to me. “Do you want to try playing too?”

I felt the paddle in my hand. The small bumps on the black side were frayed almost smooth. The edges to the red side were slightly chipped and scratched. The wooden handle felt alien to my hands which were used to plastic toys. I rubbed the enamel logo filled with symbols that I could not read on the side of the handle. That felt more comfortable.

My dad led me to an empty table, and put down his paddle. “I’m going to show you how to hold the paddle.” He bent and folded my fingers around the handle until he was satisfied. My hand felt like cement. “How does it feel?” he asked.

“Weird.”

“It will take some getting used to,” he laughed. “Next, I’ll show you how to hit the ball.” He bounced the ball on the table, swung the paddle, and the ball sailed smoothly over the net. “See? Now you try it.” He gave me a ball.

I held the yellow-orange ball in my small hands. The plastic felt hard and strong, but also thin and light. I tossed the ball on the table and swung my paddle. The ball dodged away to the side and continued bouncing towards the edge of the table until it fell on the floor.

My dad picked up the ball and gave it to me. “Try again.”

I tossed the ball and watched it bounce. I knew where it was this time. I swung my paddle and connected with the ball. It bounced weakly towards the net.

“Try hitting it a little harder this time.” My dad handed me another ball.

I tossed the ball again and swung with all my strength. It flew over the net… and kept on going, landing on the next table. My dad ran after it and apologized to the two men whose game was just interrupted.

After a while, I was able to land the ball on the other side of the net. My dad picked up his paddle and moved to the opposite end of the table. He tossed a ball towards me. “I think you’re ready to hit some balls back and forth now,” he said.

I repeated the motions that I had practiced earlier and served. There was nothing special about it, but it got past the net. My dad read the ball and sent it back towards me. I could see it coming towards me, turning towards my right. I reached and swung. The sound of plastic bouncing on the floor echoed behind me. How did I miss it? 

“Nice try,” my dad said. “You get to serve again.”

I picked up the ball and hit it across to my dad. He returned it effortlessly, and I would swing my paddle only to miss. This cycle repeated itself until I lost count of how many balls had escaped the edge of my paddle. “Well, that was 11-0. In ping-pong, first to 11 wins.” My dad picked up the winning ball behind me. 

“Our game’s over so we gotta let other people have their turns on the table.” He took my hand and led me back to the benches in the corner.

We watched the games happening around us for a while. The sound of the balls on the tables that were loud at first faded to the background.

After a couple of minutes, my dad was challenged by a slim, muscular man with a topknot, and left me on the benches.

The aluminum bench shook as bags dropped down beside me. “That’s all for me today. I should head home before the wife starts asking too many questions.” The taller man retrieved his red and grey sweater from the row of cubbies along the wall. 

The man closer to me laughed. “You probably should, otherwise I’ll have to find a new buddy, like this little guy here. Right? What’s your name?”

“Dan.”

“I’m Anh,” the man closest to me said. He pointed at the taller man who was putting on his sweater. “That guy over there is Vũ.”

Vũ waved at me. “Since I gotta go, you’re gonna be my replacement, okay?”

“You have a nice paddle,” Bác Anh observed. “Do you play often?”

“No.” I tightened my grip around the handle, the skin on my palms melded with the grain of the wood. “This is my first time playing. My dad gave me this.”

“A paddle on the bench isn’t gonna do anything, so let’s play a game!”

“I-I’m not very good.”

“That’s okay,” Bác Anh led me towards an unoccupied table. “Let’s see what you’ve got. You can serve first.”

I hit the ball across the table the way my dad taught me. It arced over the net before landing on the other end. Bác Anh sent it back towards me with a small push. I could see it this time. I swung forward. The ball bounced under my paddle and rolled off the table. We continued playing, but I could never return a hit. Each ball seemed to narrowly evade the edge of my paddle.

I was going to get the ball this time. I was going to get it and he wasn’t. I swung with all my might. Bác Anh laughed. I looked up and couldn’t see the table. Oh, it was behind me. 

“I just can’t hit the ball back.” I swung my arms around aimlessly.

“You can hit the ball. You just have to be more patient. Instead of trying to hit the ball when it comes over the net, try waiting for the ball to bounce, then hit it.” Bác Anh demonstrated both hits. “See how I give myself more time when I wait?”

I nodded.

“Let’s continue our game. This time, I will serve.” Bác Anh tossed the ball and gave me a serve.

I could see the ball coming over the net, a little to my right. I got ready to hit. Wait. See how it will move. The ball bounced, and began a smaller slower arc. I swung and felt a slight bump on my paddle. Over the net, the ball landed on the table for Bác Anh to return.

“Nice job, just keep on playing like that.” Bác Anh tapped the ball over again. 

We went back and forth until Bác Anh eventually won the point because I was bound to hit the ball into the ceiling eventually. After five points, the ball started moving faster.

“You’re getting good at this,” Bác Anh observed. 

“Thanks.” I returned the ball to him.

We fell into a rhythm to the pings and pongs of the ball floating back and forth across the table. Bác Anh told me how he considered leaving Vietnam after the war in 1975, but his brother was arrested before they could leave. He stayed in Vietnam for 10 years then decided it was time to leave. He and his brother used the money that they had saved to fly to the United States, and landed in Boston. Without any English, he found himself working odd jobs in factories and restaurants. “I learned the bad words before I learned the words that could get me anywhere,” he joked. Eventually, he learned enough English, learned how to fix cars, and opened his own mechanic shop.

I told him about the old three-story house that I lived in with my parents and two other families. I told him about the other kids in my neighborhood and the games that we would play. 

“Hey.” The man behind me placed a hand on my shoulder. My dad was behind me, breathing heavy from his last game. He tipped his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his tee shirt. “Chào Anh.”

“Chào anh.”  Bác Anh waved his paddle.

“So you’ve been training Dan while I’ve been playing.”

“Yeah. Honestly between you two, I think he’s the better student. He might even win against you.”

“We’ll see about that.” My dad turned towards me. “Do you want to play a game?”

I nodded and rushed to the other end of the table.

Bác Anh walked towards the benches. “Good luck Dan! I’ll be watching from here!”

“You can have the first serve.” My dad tossed me a ball.

I took a deep breath. My dad was standing close to the opposite corner, which would allow him to easily reach any point on the table. With his long arms, it would be awkward to hit a direct ball. I locked eyes on him and served.

The return was awkward, and the ball popped up high in the air. I set myself to hit into the far corner. My dad sensed this and moved as I swung.

The little black logo was rolling from top to bottom as the ball came over the net. Bác Anh had given many balls like this one. I was going to win this one. I set my feet into the ground and swung with all I had in my body.

I looked up and saw my dad staring in awe at me and the ball that moved beyond his reach by the tiniest of margins.