Clad in white, I stand in the tennis court,
Beads of sweat rolling down my cheeks,
Then bungee jumping onto the ground
Moistening the clay court.
The opponent is on the verge of victory,
His face is flushed with confidence
He serves hard
The ball flies off as I play a forehand shot
He replies with a heavy topspin
That catches the centre of my racquet
As I play my masterful backhand.
We rally on for the fourth longest rally of the game.
Exhausted, both of us try placing our shots.
He send one back, and I play it to his forehand
Which he converts to a drop shot
Near the net.
I dash forward
My racquet misses the ball by an inch
And I collapse.