Photo credits to Chewy Chua

“You son of a b*tch! That was an excellent shot!”  Ricky complimented Arthur, after the latter made a crosscourt drop shot to the other team.

They were paired in a badminton match. It was the finals and their game was the last one.

The score was 16- 11 and their opponents were ahead of them in the third set of the game. Ricky thought they had the advantage since Arthur was a veteran player, but Arthur was preoccupied, and the shot he made was just a lucky one.

Ricky knew that they might not win since Arthur kept thinking about a debt that he recently acquired. Arthur’s head was not in the game.

“Sixteen all,” shouted the referee. It almost felt like they were about to win. Despite the lack of focus, shot after shot, Arthur was on fire, whopping the ball home.

“Good eyes!” Ricky shouted as Arthur stopped himself from hitting the shuttlecock that fell outside the line.

Arthur acknowledged his partner by raising his badminton racket in the air towards him, but it was the dreadful look in his eyes that made Ricky’s heart almost jumped out of his chest. Arthur’s eyes reflected the torment that he was in.

The score was tied again at 20-20, the last and deciding point was at hand. Arthur told Ricky that he’d start with a short service to force the opponent to hit the shuttlecock in the air. This would provide a good hit for Ricky.

Ricky’s eyes hurt from the brackish, painful torture of his sweat, and his throat was scorching dry from the long rallies that they had. It was the calmness of Arthur that he drew courage from. At the back of his mind, betting in a match wasn’t that bad, after all, he was sure of his partner. He swore to himself that he’d give his earnings to Arthur.

When Arthur released the shuttlecock towards their opponents, instead of returning the ball ‘long,’ their opponent made a drop shot, Arthur on the other hand, made a cross court counter-drop. Their opponent was then forced to return the ball to them with a counter drop.

Watching the almost reflex like movements of Arthur made Ricky concentrate harder because the ball could reach his direction at any moment. The last drop of their opponent forced Arthur to return the ball long. It was what their opponent waited for. One of them jump-smashed the ball to his direction.

Ricky was not caught off guard and he was prepared.  He smashed the ball hard bringing it back to the other court in a long arc. The ball bounced back instantly as the other opponent’s teammate deftly hit the ball back.

Like a cobra, Arthur raised his racket the instant the ball crossed the net. The shuttle cock fell just inches away from the net.

Arthur was no longer distraught, he was focused on the movements of the other team. For the first time, his worries were washed away and his body moved like the graceful athlete that he was.

When the ball was about to hit the ground, one of their opponents dove in and caught the shuttlecock, but it flew and with a miscalculation, headed towards Ricky’s direction, who was ready to smash.

Ricky raised his right hand over his head and milliseconds away from his strike, he thought of the debt that Arthur carried and how his heart crumpled from the thought that his own best friend and god-father of his eldest son, would suffer the torment in paying that amount.

The ball was in a perfect position, and he smashed it with all of his might.

The game ended.

Minutes after the match, Arthur’s sober face greeted him. “Hey, buddy, that was a perfect smash.”

“Thanks, but I know you set it up for me,” Ricky replied knowing too well how his friend plays.

“Aww, It was really you who won the game,” Arthur insisted.

Ricky went to the locker room and he saw the bookie.

“Here is your winning money,” the guy said.

“Thank you,” said Ricky then he waited for the bookie to leave.

He went over to Arthur’s locker and left the stack of money inside.

Well Played5.052

Tags: Short story, Stories
Category: Stories.

comments feed • trackback • leave a response •