Sixty-six: The Perfect Partners

Every freshman stepping into university finds themselves fascinated by many things on campus, such as student clubs. The range of clubs is vast and diverse, and the membership fee is uniformly set at ten yuan. Typically, most club members are freshmen, as they tend to be more obedient and enthusiastic in their participation. By sophomore year, aside from a few who stay on as team leaders, most either choose to leave or simply put in a nominal effort.

Although I had already been at this school for over a year, during my preparatory year, with my future still uncertain, I kept my distance from club activities. Now, having advanced to freshman year proper, with nothing much to occupy my free time, I let myself be persuaded by my roommates to sign up for the club recruitment interviews. I chose to join the university’s Tennis Association.

Not long before, I had just passed the interview for the Disciplinary Department of the Student Union, so my confidence was riding high. Unlike the Student Union, clubs are generally open to all; the so-called “interview” is really just a senior asking a few casual questions and chatting with you—a mere formality.

Just as I expected, the interview was over in less than a minute. After filling out the form and paying the fee, I dashed to the student street and bought the cheapest tennis racket in the sports store.

Perhaps it’s always like this—at the start of something new, one’s enthusiasm tends to run high. Even I hadn’t expected that, for the sake of practicing tennis, I would manage to get up every morning at six to play. By chance, I even ran into the vice-principal on the courts, who, after giving me a few pointers, helped my skills improve considerably.

However, before I could firmly grasp my racket, the annual Freshman Tennis Tournament began.

This year’s tournament featured three main events: men’s doubles, women’s doubles, and mixed doubles. Since all the players were freshmen and had only just started playing tennis, there was no singles event. But for us, even this was a significant challenge.

Teams had to be formed freely, so I needed to find a partner. There were four of us from my class in the Tennis Association—two boys, two girls. The pairings for the doubles events thus fell into place: I partnered with Dalong from the neighboring dorm, while the two girls, Xiaojing and Xiaomei, teamed up for the women’s doubles.

But when it came to the mixed doubles, we ran into a disagreement. In the end, Dalong was quicker and chose Xiaomei, leaving me with no choice but to partner with Xiaojing.

The men’s doubles was the first to take place.

Before the match, Dalong and I meticulously dressed up in our dorm room. Over our plain white T-shirts, I wore a No. 1 McGrady training jersey, while Dalong sported a No. 23 James jersey. We borrowed basketball shorts from classmates and wrapped colorful bandanas around our heads. In the end, I could scarcely tell whether we were heading out for tennis or a street basketball game.

Our outfits naturally drew everyone’s attention. Whether it was that our opponents were weak, we ourselves were strong, or if our appearance intimidated them, we breezed through the matches and, to our surprise, advanced to the semifinals.

The success left us a little lightheaded.

But in the semifinals, our performance unexpectedly collapsed. Against an unremarkable team, we lost our service game and then fell in a tiebreak. 0:1—out of three sets, we had lost the first and were on the back foot.

We rallied in the second set, winning 6:4 and tying the score at 1:1. In the crucial third set, we built a promising 3:0 lead but failed to hold onto our hard-earned advantage. The score shifted to 5:6; the opposition needed just one more game to eliminate us.

The pressure was suffocating. My hand trembled uncontrollably as I served and missed.

“Hey, focus!” Dalong shouted, sensing our momentum slipping.

I glanced at him, took a deep breath, steadied myself, and served again. The moment my racket struck the ball, I knew it was over—too much force, and the ball sailed past the baseline. Another fault.

0:15. The point went straight to our opponents.

“It’s okay, just let it flow. Don’t be nervous!” Dalong came over, patting my shoulder, trying to comfort both of us.

Next, it was Dalong’s turn to serve. The ball zipped back and forth across the modest court, my heart leaping with every exchange. Suddenly, the ball came flying my way. I lunged forward in a desperate attempt to save it, not realizing Dalong had the same idea. We collided instead of making the play.

0:30. We were out of options.

“Xiaobei! Dalong! Don’t give up! Come on!” I turned to see Xiaojing and Xiaomei, their match just finished, cheering us on from the sidelines.

I lowered my head, striving for calm. But could a miracle truly happen?

15:30. Thanks to an error by our opponents, we clawed back a point, but our luck ran out there. On the next rally, they gave us no chance at all.

Losing that decisive game, our opponents took the set 7:5, and with a 2:1 overall score, knocked us out and advanced to the finals.

At the net, we shook hands with our opponents before trudging back to the sidelines, our rackets dragging behind us.

“Xiaobei! Dalong! Don’t lose heart; we still have the mixed doubles ahead! Good luck!” Xiaojing and Xiaomei called out, seeing our dejected faces and hurrying to encourage us.

I could only hope so, silently praying in my heart.

When the men’s and women’s doubles matches concluded, the mixed doubles tournament began. Yet misfortune struck again—Xiaojing and I drew the tournament’s top-seeded mixed doubles team in the very first round.

The gap in skill was glaring. The boy was one of the men’s doubles champions, his prowess beyond question. The girl was a former classmate from my preparatory year, who had joined the Tennis Association last year and even become a team leader. Was she even eligible for the freshmen’s tournament? I had my doubts, but it was too late.

Before the match began, I knew we were doomed.

As expected, we lost 0:2, eliminated without resistance.

(Chapter revised on September 16, 2010)