Ping Pong
Teenagers simplify and gamify Table Tennis rules — a poem.
It's half past eight, and the boys are done
With dinner dishes and having fun
They rush to the night battle scene
The fabulous game of ping pong green
For the next half hour, they compete
Who wins tonight? Who faces defeat?
How many rounds can they squeeze in?
The boys exit the cafeteria with a grin
They race to the games room down the hall
They pass the chapel and hear the call
They run fast to beat the others there
They want to play and show their flair
They gather around the table, bright
They wait for their turns with delight
The game starts with a one-point rule
Now everyone can play and be cool
Nobody is left out or ignored
The loser gets one chance on the board
he winner stays and faces the next
The opponent joins and tries to vex
Game on always! No time to rest
Everybody has a chance to be the best
Win or lose, it doesn't matter much
One chance only, no second touch
The names of the players change each round
But Luke always wins and wears the crown
With his spins and dashes, he's unbeatable
Dislodging Luke is the ultimate goal
That is the real game they all seek
Luke, the winner takes all with his technique
Luke, the champion to beat tonight
With his sidespins and low returns, he’s a sight
His forehands and backhands are so fast
The ping-pong ball spins crazily and blasts
His great serves are a marvel to watch
He makes the others look like a botch
Now the time is nine pm, and they stop
They pack the rackets and mop the top
They head to the dormitory for some rest
Nightly prayers and sleep after a glorious quest
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Images and artwork belong to Denzil Jayasinghe
A tribute to the boys of St. Joseph’s Juniorate at Mutwal, Colombo, Sri Lanka in 1969–1970, including Luke and Vernon, who have since been diseased.
