The First Game

I like to give dad a tough time on the courts, Just because he’s my pop. Poor man doesn’t know where the ball will flop. My first serve is an ace, and he’s in for nought. Next, I lob him, and he bobs up high, Misses the ball, his racket hits the air. Thirty-love and the old man pulls a face and sighs. I feel sorry for Dad, so I do a simple drop shot to be fair. Ded screams---poor bugger didn’t get the shot. I laugh---forty love, oh here I go, A straight pass down the line and return it he cannot. I win the first game, and he’s all tears in sorrow. I feel so sorry for old Dad. We take a break and gulp down water. Then he starts banging his bald head as he’s so sad. I’ll be easy with him in the next game cos I love the old codger.