This Isn’t Your Ordinary Lawn Game

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The Summer Olympics kick off Friday night with the Opening Ceremony in Rio de Janeiro. I will probably watch a bit of the pageantry, since we will be holed up in a hotel room in Dallas, preparing to fly out early the next morning for our annual dog-day sojurn to Boston. More on that in coming weeks.

I listened to an NPR story the other day that piqued my interest about a particular Olympic event I would like to catch on either TV or streamed online: badminton. Badminton has been a Summer Olympic sport since the early 1990s. Asians and a few Europeans have dominated the roster of medalists. No American has won a medal. This year, Howard Shu from California hopes to break that drought as the sole American singles player. He is ranked 67^th in the world. That does not seem to bode well, but I will be rooting for him. Besides, I found a photo of him pushing a weighted sled on artificial turf for conditioning, which endeared me to this young man.

The other day, in nearly 100-degree heat, I pushed a weighted sled outside on rough asphalt, a maneuver I hope to avoid for the rest of my days. I am committed to training, but that sled nearly put me on a stretcher. So I am glad Shu gets to push inside in air-conditioning, on a smooth surface. Otherwise, he might not be able to bat the shuttlecock about in the Olympics.

I like Shu. He has an attitude about badminton, which too many dismiss as a pleasant lawn game played while sipping lemonade or perhaps something a bit stronger. A mint julep, perhaps. Shu said he is used to folks bragging about slapping around a birdie (what Americans call the shuttlecock) as kids, and that they could take him on.

“There’s no way they could even score a point on me,” he said in the interview. And he’s right.

I know a bit about badminton. It is the only sport my dad played when I was growing up in New Hampshire. In his early 30s, when I was 7 or 8, he joined a badminton league in nearby Concord. Many Saturdays were spent sitting in the bleachers watching him compete. He was skinny and rangy, pretty quick and aggressive. I remember being impressed. This was my quiet dad, who spent nights at the drawing table making art, darting around the court. My dad was pretty good at badminton for a country boy from Wyoming.

So, of course, we boys learned how to play badminton, though this was not the typical lawn-game version. My dad was a fierce competitor and did not like to lose. So instead of gently batting the birdie (it’s shorter to spell) across the net, he was trying to bounce that bird off my forehead with an overhead smash, or make me rush the net to fruitlessly return a nicely placed drop shot. As a result, I became an OK badminton player and kicked butt in high school P.E.

Similarly, when we played chess, he would try to outlast me by taking forever to move, hoping I would doze off and make a dumb move out of exhaustion. I have inherited his competitive instinct. Just ask my nephew Connor. He is inching closer to a chess victory, but I am still undefeated.

Sadly, I don’t think Connor is interested in taking up badminton. I think I could take him.

I enrolled in badminton as a PE course at Stephen F. Austin State University, needing an elective and figuring my experience playing as a youth would come in handy. I was wrong. Being vertically challenged is a disadvantage when competing against someone 6 inches or taller. Why the heck were these guys playing badminton anyway? They should have been on the basketball court, for Pete’s sake.

The other day, I looked at my SFA transcript for another reason and noticed my badminton grade. I made a “C.” Dang. That is embarrassing. I am glad I never told my dad about it.

So I plan to tune in and watch Howard Shu hit shots that exceed 250 mph next week. I hope all that sled training helps. It nearly killed me.

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