Badminton Beauties

I've learned two things about myself: I love playing badminton and I suck incredibly at it.

But that's OK. Badminton has been a great way to meet people, especially students who I don't have for class, like these ladies. They are seniors who often play in the courtyard between the teachers' dormitories. I like playing with them because they are not as competitive as the teachers and some other students, so that means they don't mind playing with am amateur like me.

In the hour after dinner, the students have the only free time of the day before they must report to their classrooms for two hours of self-study. In this hour, the playground is packed. Several full-court basketball games are always in progress with students lined up along the sidelines watching. I have yet to play ping-pong because the outdoor tables are also always in use at this time. Badminton has been my go-to sport because you don't need a court, just two rackets, a shuttlecock and a narrow strip of space.

I just got killed on the badminton court by a middle-aged chemistry teacher in heels

First, I must admit that my right forearm is sore and a bit shaking right now, so much so that it is a struggle for me to type but I will soldier on.

I am in pain -- and slightly humiliated -- because today I was destroyed in badminton by Mrs. Wu. She is a 20-year veteran of the teaching staff here and, apparently, a badminton badass.

After dinner a couple of senior 2 (high school juniors) asked me if I was busy. I suggested badminton. I had been wanting to play and the new rackets and birdies I bought last week had yet to be taken out of the case.

Next to one of the students' dorms are a couple of courts. The net is just a string tied to two poles but it does the job. The boys and I played for half an hour before Mrs. Wu appeared, watching from the sidelines.

She was dressed in a pretty green top, black slacks and heels. She smiled as she watched and commented on her students' shots.

I walked over to her and asked in Chinese, "Do you want to play?"

I expected her to decline but she agreed immediately. The boys stepped aside and Mrs. Wu and I took the court.

From the start, I knew she was good. She whipped the birdie at me hard with little effort, only swinging her right arm. She looked relaxed and wore an easy smile the entire time we played.

I, on the other hand, felt my competitive juices flowing. I put my whole body into every shot. My face was tense and I grunted. My shoulder started to burn. My thumb was red where I gripped the racket. I could feel my sweat soaking through my shirt.

But even when I tried to slam the birdie across the net, the birdie only floated down.

"Do this," she said, and flicked her wrist.

So I did and it worked. The birdie started floating closer to the net. But my sudden improvement in playing only made Mrs. Wu increase the difficulty of the return shots I had to make. She sometimes rocketed the birdie so high to test my timing, or tapped it so lightly that I had to dive forward. All the while, she stood in the same place, right arm easily swinging.

"We play every morning here. You should come," she said. At 6 a.m.

When we finished our game, she again encouraged me to join the game. I said I would come.

"But I won't be as good as all of you," I said.

Mrs. Wu only laughed. She knew that already.