I was talking to someone in the kitchen at The Big Pointy Building today about the rare times in our lives we had won things. She had won an Easter Egg decorating competition at school, which was was quite prophetic (visit her blog and you'll see what I mean).
I remembered the time I won something, and it went a little like this: (Please note, each * indicates embellishment for comic purposes)...
When I started out on my tennis addiction phase I was not very good. But I get good when I get these obsessions. At the time of this little story, however, I was not very good at playing tennis.
However I was obsessed and I bought all the clothing and drooled over racquets I couldn't afford and I'd stay up all night watching people who were good at playing. And I bought Tennis Weekly, or whatever the damn mag was called. Bought it every week. Sometimes I bought it twice a week because when I get hooked on something, I am hard fucking core.
One week, they had a caption competition and I thought bugger me, I like writing silly shit, I think I'll enter.
I thought of a hilariously inventive caption for EVERY photo and assumed I'd win something. I even wondered if the judges would have the integrity to give me first, second and third prizes... all of which I wholly deserved.
Next mag came out and after a quick scan I felt a bit crap because I didn't rate a mention. Another, more detailed read and I found I'd actually won the first prize I assumed I was going to win. I'd won an amazing, imported, thousand buck Donnay. The picture alone took my breath away to the accompaniment of Heaven's own angels singing their praise.
The Donnay (as I referred to it forever after) arrived in the mail. It was kind of as if King Arthur had been mailed Excalibur. This was the stuff of unfolding legends.
When I turned up at the new tennis club with Excalibur in its shoulder bag, people took notice. I kid you not, people looked. People talked. The guy at the booking desk even asked where I got hold of such a racquet, such was the awe it inspired.
"You won it?"
"Yeah, in a competition."
"He won it," he said, turning to his assistant. "In competition."
Fuck me, I thought, that came out way wrong. Before I had a chance to explain, the guy said, "So you're pretty good?"
"I was pretty good in this particular competition, but you know..."
"Wow," desk guy said to his assistant, "cool and modest. We have to check him out."
A crowd had gathered by the time I made my way to court 7, and all I could do was pray to the powers that be that something magical was about to happen... something... please?
* To be continued.