Makes a Great Paperweight
My daughter Katie bought me this for Father’s Day last year, and I’m still not sure what the hell it does. Looks like a hockey puck. I tried to ask the Indian kid to show me how to use it, but he’s still PO’d that I called him “Slumdog.” Jeez, uptight much? Anyway, you plug it into your TV and you get… what, more TV? You ask me, the last thing this generation needs is more TV. Hey, Katie, I downloaded you a new Facebook app, it’s called “going outside.”
If you’re a topspin offensive player like me, it’s worth it to splurge on a premium racket. Sure, you can get an old dimpled paddle at the local drug store next to the cream of mushroom soup, but you’re just not going to get the kind of English I like to put on the ball with some ten-dollar piece of crap, and you know it. Stop kidding yourself. People these days, they don’t remember what it was like to save up for something. It’s all NOW NOW NOW instant gratification. Trust me, boo boo, you’ll appreciate the value of delayed satisfaction real quick when you’re trying to return one of my overhand screamers with your unpadded, glorified piece of cardboard. Just don’t take it out on my nice table when you start getting shelled.
By the way, I prefer the flared handle. Maintaining your reaction time and racket maneuverability requires staying relaxed through your fingertips and forearms, and that starts with a light grip. The flared handle gives me the confidence to stay loose in my hands. It’s probably more of a peace of mind thing than anything else, but you can’t convince me that it doesn’t make a difference.