Background information
Top talent vs. dilettante: Happy without a chance in the table tennis lesson
by Michael Restin
Then just a camping pong table
9.7.2019
Translation: machine translated
It is so small that it fits in a large car boot. It's fun and makes a good camping table. It's almost everything I want - but unfortunately it's not weatherproof. And small children kill it.
Because space is tight at home, I hesitate for a long time before I fulfil big wishes. Or I see if the big wishes are also available in a smaller size. Since my lesson from Pedro Osiro, I've definitely realised that I should start small in table tennis.
He's now 17 and already Swiss runner-up, I'm 38 and still a dilettante. Damn. But I also lack training opportunities. When my colleague Pia Seidel presented a dream of a table tennis table, I was wide-eyed and would even have been prepared to dig deep into my pockets. So I broached the topic more cautiously at home than a safety serve, but my wife's return was devastating. It. There. No. Table tennis table. But she couldn't quite get the idea out of my head. Then I'll just use a camping pong table.
Small table is not rubbish
At this point, I have to pat myself on the back. The house is not askew and the table top stands upright thanks to its height-adjustable legs. This purchase is as ingenious as the name "Mini-Table Midi XL" and was long overdue. Because when a couple of old school friends announced their visit, I knew I had to take action. Whenever we see each other, we play. It doesn't work without something with a ball, without some kind of duel. Then all you really need is one more ingredient and it's on.
Liquid bread and games
Liquid bread and games are a must. So I bought the table. It fits in the garden or next to the old dining table in the living room, looks like a big one and disappears behind the cupboard when folded up.
Now I have the table, but no opponents yet. The children are enthusiastic, but still too small to be a challenge for their dilettante dad. So I'm playing against the wall. I'm playing against myself. I wait for day X. And when it finally comes, I lose the first match as if I were facing Pedro Osiro again.
Damn. Damned bat. Damn table. If I hit it, it's mini. If my colleague hits it, it seems to be XL. Now I know what the name means. My mood is now midi at most. Frustration. I'm on the verge of banishing the racket back to the cellar and completely converting the table top into a camping table.
We play ourselves into a frenzy
Luckily, the day is still long, so there's more than just a rematch in store. And while the sun slowly sinks, the level is rising just as slowly, but visibly. The passion too. I'd almost say we're playing ourselves into a frenzy. We're going all out again, regardless of losses. Even topspin is no longer a foreign word. It's working!
Almost like before. With the slight difference that one or two children now crawl under the plate, prefer to play frisbee or cling to a leg in the middle of the match and go all Raging John McEnroe. Irregular conditions. But summer evenings are long and eventually even the last child sleeps.
A little later today, though. Because when I turn the garden into a centre court and install floodlights, it gets light again in the children's room. "Mummy, what's Daddy doing out there?" Oh, he's not doing anything, he just wants to play.
The message of Jacob
We turned night into day, played and had fun. It was great. The story should have ended here. But it goes on. I'm sitting in the office, a little tired but happy, and starting to write this article. My colleagues are still crowding our flat when I receive some sad news.
I need to explain this. The black rod in the picture is the net holder. It is made of plastic. Jakob, the baby of our visitors, will soon be one year old. Standing up, pulling himself up, beaming - these are his topics. I wasn't there, but I can visualise him reaching for the stick, gurgling happily as he pulls on it and, crack, lands on his Pampers. Nice shit. Now I'm a bit crestfallen. Therefore, an urgent appeal to the manufacturer Donic Schildkröt: Make the holder more stable, then the table will be perfect!
Meanwhile, in my friends' travel chat...
It's unbelievably already the second enthusiastic grandma who has cast an eye on the table.
Michael Restin
Senior Editor
Michael.Restin@digitecgalaxus.chSimple writer and dad of two who likes to be on the move, wading through everyday family life. Juggling several balls, I'll occasionally drop one. It could be a ball, or a remark. Or both.
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