Because of sickness and miscellaneous conflicts, I haven’t been to the Three Rivers Table Tennis club since December 27. I finally made it last night. Turns out that the Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette newspaper ran a big article on the club, and it caught the attention of lots of ping pong players.

There’s a difference between “ping pong” and “table tennis.” People play ping pong recreationally in their basement or the church fellowship hall. People play table tennis as a sport. The latter are snobs. They consider themselves better, more serious, than mere ping pong players. I’m a snob.

Anyway, the place was packed last night. We have nine tables, which means 18 people can play at once. Rarely is every table busy. But last night, they were all busy, and there were a dozen or so people waiting around for an empty table. Probably half of the people last night were newbies. And I resented their presence.

Last week, when I attended the cluster coach training in Hillsdale, Mich., some of the pastors talked about the attitudes of regular church attenders toward newcomers. One person said that soon after he became pastor of his church, his wife and kids sat down on a front pew and another lady in the church asked them to move, because that was her pew. Another pastor told of a parishioner asking some first-time visitors to move, because they were sitting in his place. Visitors can be such a nuisance, huh? They don’t know how things are supposed to work.

Well, last night at the table tennis club, I felt the same way. I’m on a first-name basis with most of the guys and enjoy chatting with them. But last night, I didn’t get a chance to chat with the regulars. These new people were sitting in places I normally sat. They didn’t know the proper etiquette (walking behind a table to retrieve a ball while a point was in progress, for instance), and didn’t know the rules (11-point games, alternate two serves at a time–none of this serve-five-points, 21-point game stuff). Because they were cluttering up the neighborhood, I didn’t get to play nearly as much as I normally do. I had to be courteous and helpful to these new people–that can be such a strain–and play guys who provided little or no competition. What a burdensome hassle. My comfort zone had been invaded by the primitive Mongol hordes.

I wish they would go away. It was much more enjoyable when our club was small and we knew everybody.