Last night, I went back to the Ping Pong club. It was a rainy night and there were only two guys there, both of them 60+ years old, and both of whom whipped my butt. Or cleaned my clock, a good Christian would say.

Max is the better of the two, and I can’t tell how old he is. But I know he served in WW2, which means he’s probably pushing 80. He’s a thin fellow, who comes wearing sweat pants and Nikes and a sweatshirt. He’s not quick laterally, like you need to be in tennis, but his reflexes are very good, and since in Ping Pong you can get away with not moving much, he does just fine. His strokes are beautiful. Having played competitive tennis for a number of years (high school and throughout college), I pay much attention to form, which is all-important in tennis. I learn a lot just by watching how Max hits that little white ball.

The other guy is George. He’s still employed, but I’m guessing he’s approaching retirement age. George and Max warm up together, and they really go at it. But in singles play, George rarely beats Max. Max just has too many shots. I enjoy warming up with George, because his style is more conducive to my bang-the-ball style, and he tends to respond to the other person’s shots more than try to control the play. George and I played two games, and he beat me both of them. We played to just 11 points, taking two serves at a time. I think I got 8 points one game. But I’m sure George can still take it up a notch or two.

I played a lot more against Max. When we get in a slicing duel, I do extremely well, because my backhand slice stroke (thanks to tennis) is very good. I can at least stay with him, though he’ll eventually win the point, most likely. But I’m pleased to discover that that’s a strength of my game. When I play Kevin at church and things get tight, I can start slicing with the knowledge that he won’t be able to keep up with me.

But Max has all kinds of spins. He’ll serve the ball with a lot of spin, and when I return it, it might veer off to the far right or to the far left–I never know which. He has a forehand shot with lots of spin that sends the ball out wide to my right; I think I’m on it, but I swing and miss it. Very frustrating. But I’ll get onto it eventually.

My backhand has always been a strength–thanks, again, to tennis–but it just doesn’t measure up with these guys. I have felt real good about my forehand. But when I mentioned to Max that I needed work on my backhand, he said, “Actually, your backhand is better than your forehand.” Which was a blow to me. But it’s because I didn’t know better. He explained that I was hitting the ball where you would in tennis, at waist level, whereas in ping pong you need to hit the ball at the top of its arc. I started doing that as I played Max–it’s very tough to break decades of habit–and it was definitely an improvement. He taught me other things about how to stroke the ball. Too many things, actually–I’m overwhelmed! But if I keep going back, week after week, I’ll be able to incorporate things into my game.

Max and I played three games. He beat me all three, and without much difficulty. I had my moments, and I’m not a pushover. But Max is the master. The previous night, he was playing full-court basketball with the youth. He also plays tennis, and who knows what else. Quite the athlete. Not as quick as I’m sure he used to be (he’s about 80, for heaven’s sakes!), but great reflexes and wonderful coordination.

I could have continued elevating my game just by playing at Anchor, improving on what I already know and struggling back to the level at which I played in college. But putting myself in a whole different situation will jump-start me to a new level. I can feel it. This ping pong club will be very good for me, and I’m extremely eager to learn. I think Max appreciates that.

I know there are correlations I can draw with the Missionary Church–putting ourselves among them, learning from people who are much better at church planting and missions than we are, discovering new spins and strokes that we’ll never learn just playing among ourselves. But I’ll let it go.