The serve was for all the marbles in the Marble Store (you just go towards Macy's and it's gonna be right in between the Apple Store and Yankee Candle).
It might sound silly but this was truly no joking matter; the seventy second annual Ghost Island Squash Tournament's championship match was, in reality, a matter of life or death for the competitors, a real Bon Jovi kind of situation. Marvin Poole, a fifty seven year old blues singer from Memphis, Tennessee, was coming in at five foot nine and a hundred and fifty four pounds with a mean serve and a forehand with a tendency towards wicked topspin (you could have very well said the ball was presented by a well known baseball card company because Poole knocked it around with so much Toppspin). Ken Wong, a sixty one year old retired software engineer from Santa Clara, California, was coming in at five foot eleven and a hundred and sixty six pounds with a hankering for trash talk and a keen ability to root his way inside his opponent's head (to go all Inside Out on their mind, if you are a fan of Pixar movies), almost as if he were the one pushing the buttons for them. It was safe to say that Wong was the heavy favorite in Atlantic City (the squash world has yet to matriculate West to the City of Sin) coming into the highly anticipated match up against the newcomer Poole, a disciple of the great B.B. King in addition to the great Stan Bilson (who is only one of the greatest squash players in the history of the fine sport) who was certainly hoping that the water in the Gatorade cooler by his bench would not be muddy, as the veteran computer tinkerer was not only the defending Ghost Island Squash Tournament champion but he had won the incredibly popular affair seven of the last nine years (and took home the bronze in one of the other years and that other year he was taking some time off to focus on his newfound obsession with the sport of pickle ball and oh boy...did he ever take the ball of pickle by storm, ah jeez), casually tossing the squash world in the eye of a hurricane which is definitely not beneficial for the health of the vegetable but does not really make a difference for the sport since it is played in an indoor court...if you are not familiar with the sport, it is essentially like racquetball but if it was only played by vegans...that joke was brought to you by Dads Around the World.
The much anticipated championship match had the Ghost Island Recreation Center hummin' and drummin' in the midst of a beehive of excitement. Ghost Island is a small tourist destination that is located about twenty seven and a half miles south of central Long Island; it has long been a safe haven for wild-living creative types, spooked beach-loving hermits and beached hermit crabs alike. The island is perhaps most well known in international circles (as well as intergalactic circles...shout out to all the Animal Planet heads reading this out there...I hope you don't get your iPhone soaked because you are deep sea fishing right now or going on an intense kayak ride through the heart of the Grand Canyon or doing some other wild adventure REI commercial kind of deal) for its rampant downpour of shark attacks as a pod of Great White Sharks circle its shore on a regular basis, other than the brief periods of time that they tag team each other out, allowing the freed up creatures some space to work on editing their acting reel and brainstorming ideas for memorable finshots that will really stand out in a pile and showcase the better side of their snout as well as their very particular set of skills for the big audition for the latest chapter of the Sharknado saga. Each participant in the Ghost Island Squash Tournament championship match prepared for the battle in their own way, innately distinct to their playing style and their overall character as a human being; Wong completed his regular block of hot yoga while Poole got himself all prepped up for the biggest moment of his athletic career by doing some hot yoga.
"Let it go, Marvin...let it go." The blues singer whispered to himself in the disguise of a beautiful melody. You see, the road to the Final Four (that is what they call the final four teams left in the tournament in squash terms) hadn't been easy for Poole. A former professional wrestler and amateur jet ski inspector in the Florida panhandle, Marvin had spent the last twenty years of his life trying to recapture the previous twenty. His best friend on the panhandle wrestling circuit, Chad "Crazy Like A" Fox, tragically lost his life in a freak jet skiing accident off the coast of Port Saint Joe when he collided with a marauding Bull Shark that was coming up for air. Unfortunately for all the PETA members who are reading this right meow (that is exclusively how PETA people have to say the word now, it's on page nine of the official pawbook, look it up), the Bull Shark passed away in the event as well but at least it got to swim away with six rings in the 90s so that is pretty legit if you are a follower of the hoops. Fox's funeral (don't get too mad PETA peeps, Fox was just a person who died, not the cute lil red animal with pointy ears) was an enormous affair, lasting three nights and four days on the beach of Panama City. A fleet of circus tents were scattered across the sand as huge (most certainly illegal according to the many beach laws) bonfires rose up, beacons of hope in a time of worry, a time of despair and sorrow for the loss of a good friend (and a good Bull Shark who was one heck of a sixth man, that thing gobbled up rebounds like...well, you know.)
It might sound silly but this was truly no joking matter; the seventy second annual Ghost Island Squash Tournament's championship match was, in reality, a matter of life or death for the competitors, a real Bon Jovi kind of situation. Marvin Poole, a fifty seven year old blues singer from Memphis, Tennessee, was coming in at five foot nine and a hundred and fifty four pounds with a mean serve and a forehand with a tendency towards wicked topspin (you could have very well said the ball was presented by a well known baseball card company because Poole knocked it around with so much Toppspin). Ken Wong, a sixty one year old retired software engineer from Santa Clara, California, was coming in at five foot eleven and a hundred and sixty six pounds with a hankering for trash talk and a keen ability to root his way inside his opponent's head (to go all Inside Out on their mind, if you are a fan of Pixar movies), almost as if he were the one pushing the buttons for them. It was safe to say that Wong was the heavy favorite in Atlantic City (the squash world has yet to matriculate West to the City of Sin) coming into the highly anticipated match up against the newcomer Poole, a disciple of the great B.B. King in addition to the great Stan Bilson (who is only one of the greatest squash players in the history of the fine sport) who was certainly hoping that the water in the Gatorade cooler by his bench would not be muddy, as the veteran computer tinkerer was not only the defending Ghost Island Squash Tournament champion but he had won the incredibly popular affair seven of the last nine years (and took home the bronze in one of the other years and that other year he was taking some time off to focus on his newfound obsession with the sport of pickle ball and oh boy...did he ever take the ball of pickle by storm, ah jeez), casually tossing the squash world in the eye of a hurricane which is definitely not beneficial for the health of the vegetable but does not really make a difference for the sport since it is played in an indoor court...if you are not familiar with the sport, it is essentially like racquetball but if it was only played by vegans...that joke was brought to you by Dads Around the World.
The much anticipated championship match had the Ghost Island Recreation Center hummin' and drummin' in the midst of a beehive of excitement. Ghost Island is a small tourist destination that is located about twenty seven and a half miles south of central Long Island; it has long been a safe haven for wild-living creative types, spooked beach-loving hermits and beached hermit crabs alike. The island is perhaps most well known in international circles (as well as intergalactic circles...shout out to all the Animal Planet heads reading this out there...I hope you don't get your iPhone soaked because you are deep sea fishing right now or going on an intense kayak ride through the heart of the Grand Canyon or doing some other wild adventure REI commercial kind of deal) for its rampant downpour of shark attacks as a pod of Great White Sharks circle its shore on a regular basis, other than the brief periods of time that they tag team each other out, allowing the freed up creatures some space to work on editing their acting reel and brainstorming ideas for memorable finshots that will really stand out in a pile and showcase the better side of their snout as well as their very particular set of skills for the big audition for the latest chapter of the Sharknado saga. Each participant in the Ghost Island Squash Tournament championship match prepared for the battle in their own way, innately distinct to their playing style and their overall character as a human being; Wong completed his regular block of hot yoga while Poole got himself all prepped up for the biggest moment of his athletic career by doing some hot yoga.
"Let it go, Marvin...let it go." The blues singer whispered to himself in the disguise of a beautiful melody. You see, the road to the Final Four (that is what they call the final four teams left in the tournament in squash terms) hadn't been easy for Poole. A former professional wrestler and amateur jet ski inspector in the Florida panhandle, Marvin had spent the last twenty years of his life trying to recapture the previous twenty. His best friend on the panhandle wrestling circuit, Chad "Crazy Like A" Fox, tragically lost his life in a freak jet skiing accident off the coast of Port Saint Joe when he collided with a marauding Bull Shark that was coming up for air. Unfortunately for all the PETA members who are reading this right meow (that is exclusively how PETA people have to say the word now, it's on page nine of the official pawbook, look it up), the Bull Shark passed away in the event as well but at least it got to swim away with six rings in the 90s so that is pretty legit if you are a follower of the hoops. Fox's funeral (don't get too mad PETA peeps, Fox was just a person who died, not the cute lil red animal with pointy ears) was an enormous affair, lasting three nights and four days on the beach of Panama City. A fleet of circus tents were scattered across the sand as huge (most certainly illegal according to the many beach laws) bonfires rose up, beacons of hope in a time of worry, a time of despair and sorrow for the loss of a good friend (and a good Bull Shark who was one heck of a sixth man, that thing gobbled up rebounds like...well, you know.)
Buy Chris's books SPONGE CAKE & WHAT'S IN THE FRIDGE? on Amazon
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