Sunday, August 18, 2002
Badminton to the bone
By Shannon Russell, srussell@enquirer.com
The Cincinnati Enquirer
In an average lifetime, there are several highly anticipated rites of passage an individual must endure. This is so, at the very end, one may make a list of such achievements, reflect thoroughly and say, “Hey! What did the Tooth Fairy want with my baby teeth and how can I get them back?”
Which is obviously a silly question, because everyone knows the Tooth Fairy donates teeth to percussion instrument companies making maracas.
Needless to say, finding those teeth is about as easy as taming a wildebeest, and both are risky without the written consent of a certified forest ranger.
RACKET CAUSES QUITE A STIR
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Tim Beatrice first dabbled in badminton as a fifth-grader in East Palestine, Ohio. Now, as a 42-year-old Milford resident, he can't imagine a better physical activity.
“What I like is that it's a great way to play off stress. You can swing as hard as you want to hit that bird,” Beatrice said. “When I leave, I feel like the weight of the world is off my shoulders. I'm ready to take on my job.”
The game, which is played on a volleyball-sized court, involves scoring points by hitting a birdie with a racket over a 5-foot net. Games are played with two pairs (doubles) or individual opponents (singles).
Amberly resident Marty Metz said the short bursts of running, coupled with frequent racket swinging and near-constant motion, make badminton an ideal aerobic activity.
“I've played a lot of other sports, but to me, this is the best exercise there is. In addition to being very physical, it's a real mind game. It's challenging because there are so many ways to cover the court,” Metz said. “In doubles, you have to learn to adjust to your partner.”
Blue Ash's Bill McKaig and Reading's Ruth Madsen won gold medals in the Senior Olympics national games in Baton Rouge, La., last June. They captured top honors in the mixed doubles' 65-69 age group.
McKaig, who has attended several skills camps to sharpen his technique, said badminton's connotation can be deceiving.
“It's certainly good for the lungs and heart,” he said. “The misconception is that many people still think of it as a backyard sport.”
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It's better to focus on other rites, such as getting your driver's license, graduating high school and purchasing your first pair of elastic-waisted, expandable slacks.
There are several rites that are hard to forget. I don't mean to ruin the surprise, but there comes a time when one must protect oneself from a flying mass of feathers and plastic, hurtling along at speeds of 25 mph and heading for a large target, which typically is one's head.
For me, that day was Monday.
I embarked on Summer Adventure No. 11 with the foolish notion that the game of badminton would involve civilized volleys the way the Duke of Beaufort intended when he made the sport famous in the 1800s. By which I mean 20 minutes of play and a lengthy reception of tea, crumpets and unabashed gossip.
Boy, was I wrong. Badminton isn't the backyard, picnic-perfect, leisurely sport of yesteryear. I found out when I attended a morning recreational session with eight badminton enthusiasts at the City of Reading's VYO Mike Haffey Fieldhouse. Real badminton, I learned, is played indoors.
“It's a lot like volleyball,” said Ruth Madsen of Reading, a 10-year player. “You hit the shuttle over a net for points, usually to 15 (points).”
As a seasoned volleyball player (not to toot my own horn, but I played an entire season in eighth grade), I was confident that this badminton business would be a walk in the park. I noticed almost every player was both well-conditioned and intelligent, which should have sounded very loud warning buzzers in my head. As in cases of extreme peril, my natural instinct was to shut those buzzers off.
“I just want to learn the basics of the game. I don't know if I'll have any skill,” I said.
“Good,” said Bill McKaig, 69, of Blue Ash. “I need someone to beat!”
We all enjoyed a hearty laugh as I walked onto a court with my partner, Loveland's Harvey Mason, 74. We faced Marty Metz of Amberly and her partner, Bill, in a high-octane badminton battle of mixed doubles.
Within two seconds I found out exactly what I was: dead meat.
The object of the game is to elude an opponent by hitting a shuttlecock, or birdie, over the net and onto their court. If the birdie hits the floor on the opposite side of the court in-bounds, the serving team receives a point. Doubles games are played to 15 points. Also, the birdie looks like a boiled egg yolk wearing a hoop skirt.
Bearing a sleek, streamlined racket, I was instructed to serve the birdie over a 5-foot net toward the opponent diagonal from me. My routine went something like this: attempt to serve. Miss. Attempt to serve again. Serve birdie into net.
In my defense, my hands were broken by thugs minutes before I entered the gym. They also stole my coordination.
Just when I had given up all hope on my athletic abilities, a breakthrough. I sent the birdie over the net with finesse. Marty hit it back, Harvey returned it, and Bill aimed my way. It was a real, live volley! Hurrah!
Until I took one last swing and missed the birdie completely.
No matter — I was just getting warmed up. Within moments, I was forced to implement what is known among intelligence officers as a Code Red RDGD: the emergency Run, Duck and Giggle Drill.
Whap! Whizz! Smash! With flicks of their wrists, Marty, Bill and Harvey traded volleys so hard, so fast and so far that it left my head spinning.
“Hey, um ... guys?” I started.
Just then, a birdie came out of the heavens and nearly shattered my nose.
“Never mind!,” I said. “You're doing great!”
I successfully served again and managed to decently cover the front court, but I must say all the credit goes to Harvey. And our opponents, who beat us 15-2 in a mere 10 minutes.
“You did well!” they encouraged.
But you know what happened next? I was benched. A ringer came in and took my place while I was sent packing.
Luckily, Bill had brought a book called “Skills, Drills and Strategies for Badminton,” which I read while attempting to absorb badminton talent from both playing courts. I found out some critical information, such as a.) birdies boast real goose feathers and b.) a real match lasts between 30 and 40 minutes.
You probably can guess what happened next: I locked my keys in my car. No, really, I did! I attempted to retrieve something very important from my vehicle (orange juice) and, in my excitement, left the keyring right on the passenger's seat.
This was not entirely bad news, as it allowed me to return to the badminton court for an unexpected 45 minutes. I engaged in a delightful singles volley with Jeannine Bohn, 66, who won but didn't once brag.
So to recap today's new and innovative concepts, it's a good idea to go through many, many rites of passage. Therefore, when you become old, you can tell everyone you know the same stories hundreds of times. Badminton is an excellent source of exercise and strategy, and it might just be the challenge you've been looking for.
If not, start writing to your forest ranger. There are always teeth to find and wildebeests to tame.
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Badminton to the bone
