Heavy grunts, triumphant whoops and frustrated exclamations ricochet off the walls of a basketball court in the Long Center's 15,000-square-foot gymnasium. Scores are called out in the midst of the thwap-thwap-twapping of rubber- and carbon fiber-coated rackets striking 40-centimeter, high-bouncing, hollow celluloid balls. Nine tables are lined up into three rows, almost all of them already claimed. It's barely 9 a.m.
I'm a bit intimidated. The Sunrise Table Tennis Club attracts players of all ages but the morning crowd is mostly retirees who look like they could outplay me with little effort and a whole lot of finesse. But everyone is warm and welcoming, some likely curious about what I'm doing there in my jeans and sandals. Silly me to think I didn't need sneakers.
I'm supposed to meet Al Palumbo, but he hasn't arrived yet, so I talk to Martin Shapiro, a vintage postcard collector/dealer and the club's bespectacled middle-aged webmaster. He tells me he used to play around 15 hours weekly before he hurt his back. Now, he visits the courts two to three times a week.
Shapiro points out a strapping younger dude who's seriously playing pairs with some lively gray-hairs, his bald head shiny with sweat, his eyes never leaving the ball. "That's Robert Ashmeade," Shapiro says. "He's one of the best." So good, in fact, that he was awarded one of the club's two cash scholarships for table tennis excellence and dedication.
I'm starting to get a little nervous. "What are the rules?" I ask. "What do I really need to know?"
I'm told that games are played to 11 points, unless both players or pairs score 10 points, in which case the game is won by the first player or pair who gains a two-point lead. Every two serves (really, every two points), the receiving player becomes the serving player and so on until the end of the game. The winner of the best of five games (or seven, your choice) claims a match victory. Sandpaper-coated rackets are no longer allowed, swearing is a no-no and could get you penalized during a tournament, and under no circumstances should the sport be called "ping pong" within hearing range of the players — you could be berated, at best, or have to take cover from a volley of tiny balls, at worst.
"Ping pong is a game you play in the basement," explains Shapiro. "Table tennis is a competitive sport."
Palumbo arrives somewhere in the middle of Shapiro's breakdown of the sport; he's a sturdy retiree with a ponytail, an earring and a ready smile who adds his own helpful advice to our discussion. Like a ceiling hit — while it looks good, it is not an acceptable table tennis play. "Maybe in ping pong," says Shapiro, and they laugh scornfully.
The serving rules — no hiding the ball or holding it under the table out of sight when you're about to hit it, no yelling or distracting the server — are the last bits of info they give me before Palumbo finally, impatiently, tells me to put down my stuff and grab a racket.
I hit the ball everywhere at first, embarrassed about making Palumbo scurry for it again and again. But he just keeps watching me play before good-naturedly pointing out my mistakes. I learn to let the ball come to me and not run to it so much; to properly hold my racket, like I'm shaking someone's hand, only with my pinky, ring and middle finger wrapped around the handle; to really keep my eye on the ball, because looking away for even a half-second can be distraction enough to lose a point; to keep my elbow somewhat close to my body.
So we practice, and I get into a zone where I'm hitting the ball pretty regularly and we're going back and forth more often. After breaking into a light sweat, I decide it's time we start playing for real before I get too winded.
After losing the first game, 11 to 1, and the second, 11 to 3 , I'm pretty sure about who'll be victorious in the third. Worn out, I admit my defeat. "Table tennis!" I think incredulously as I leave. One of the world's largest participation sports, played in the Olympics, with 40 million competitive players worldwide and countless millions playing recreationally. Though it's not as widespread in the United States, there are plenty of enthusiasts, ages 11 to 81, right here in our own backyard. And they're more than willing to welcome newcomers.
The Sunrise Table Tennis Club (STTC) is part of the Sunrise Sports Foundation, Inc., a nonprofit organization that promotes low cost and/or free athletic competitions and educational clinics for adults and juveniles. STTC is one of the Florida table tennis clubs that provides facilities, activities and opportunities for the foundation to achieve these goals. Membership to the club is $25 a year, $35 for families; a three-month seasonal membership is $15. Membership is open to the public and benefits include use of the facilities, club play, training specials and the club newsletter. For more information, visit www.sunrisetabletennis.com.
For a list of locations where the Sunrise Table Tennis Club plays, click here.
This article appears in May 10-16, 2006.