Ping-Pong People
2.2 / The Deep End
It's one thing to get a senior discount at the movie theater, and save a couple of bucks to wallow in 1960s nostalgia watching A Complete Unknown. But it's quite another thing to join the North Oakland Senior Center. At least at the movie theater, there are a bunch of people under the age of 55.
Nonetheless, I joyfully bit the geezer bullet in order to do something I’d been waiting for since 2022.
Before the pandemic, there were at least half a dozen Ping-Pong clubs in Berkeley, Oakland and Richmond. All of them, of course, closed down in March 2020; only one or two of them have since re-opened. (The best of these is the fabulous and friendly Alameda Table Tennis Club, but it’s further away than I want to drive.) Longing for a game, I even put an ad on Craigslist: If anyone out there had room for a table, and would play with me twice a week, I’d purchase the table and gear (paddles, balls, etc.).
No takers.
Why this obsession with Ping-Pong? To begin with: There are few other sports out there that (a) are do-able, given the state of my mobility, and (b) provide such a sublime combination of aerobic exercise, eye-hand coordination, balance, human interaction and endorphin production.
But there's more to it than that. Table tennis has deep roots in my memory. Ping-Pong was — as illustrated by the recorded story below — a staple exercise and passion that I shared with my brother Jordan before I, then he, moved out of our family home in Plainview, NY. The following two-minute tale, excerpted from 108 Beloved Objects, talks about our daily “tournaments,” and the significance of the photo above.
The truth is, I had pretty much given up hope on finding a game — until my longtime friend Stef connected me with her friend Deborah, who informed me that on Wednesday of each week, from 1:00 to 3:00 PM, an assortment of folks (with and without Parkinson’s) congregate to play at the North Oakland Senior Center, on the corner of 58th St. and Martin Luther King Jr. Way — a short bike ride from my flat.
When I first stepped into the room of interest, with its four tables, folding chairs and wire basket of paddles and balls, I was enthusiastic but understandably sheepish. I hadn't played in years; maybe not since the match with Arthur C. Clarke narrated in the story above. Back in the day, I’d considered myself pretty good. That belief had nothing to do with reality. The only person I had played with regularly was Jordan, and we’d been pretty much on the same level. There at the threshold of the table tennis room, next to a help-yourself tray of double-filled Oreo cookies, I watched the Center’s long-time players (about a dozen of them) serve, slice and slam with a level of skill that I found totally intimidating.
Nevertheless, I tossed my jacket over a chair and stepped up for a game. By the time 3 p.m. arrived I’d played six, and won two. My heart was pounding, and my T-shirt soaked through. Ironically, the two players I’d beaten were not afflicted with PD. Go figure.
How was I able to beat even two people? I really don't know. Muscle memory is a funny thing. Although I still don't know how to return a skillful slice, my own particular skill set seemed to come back pretty quickly, even after these many years. But let’s be real: Ranking table tennis players on a scale of to 10, with 1 being a total beginner and 10 being those insanely good athletes who compete at the Olympics, I’m about a 2.2 — but damn, that game is fun.
A brief aside: I actually thought, until I wrote this post, that table tennis was invented by the Chinese, maybe 1,000 years ago. In fact, it was first introduced as a parlor game in 1890 by an Englishman named David Foster as a way to bring tennis in from the cold. The onomatopoeic name “Ping-Pong” (which admittedly sounds Chinese) was invented and trademarked by the British game company J. Jacque and Son. In 1902, the first official World Championship took place. By the mid-20th century the Japanese and Chinese had adopted and exceled at the game, and table tennis became an Olympic sport in 1988.
And more than fun, Ping-Pong is the first thing I've done in months that has given me a total workout. Though I love riding my eBike, and do it nearly every day — and though Pilates and Tai chi shih are highly anticipated parts of my week — a daily hour of sweating it out is the only tried and tested intervention that can successfully arrest or reverse Parkinson's. If the Senior Center offered these matches twice a week, I’d go twice. Meanwhile, I'm grateful to the Center — and my new table tennis pals.
Ping-Pong to the contrary notwithstanding... There comes a time in the life of every Parkinson’s person, at least those of us beyond a certain age, when we realize that a cure for the disease within our lifetime is vanishingly unlikely. Some of the current studies underway (e.g., one being conducted in the UK with a former cough medicine drug called Ambroxol) will probably require at least another five years before they get through Phase 3 clinical trials.
As for research in this country, my guess would be that, with the deep cuts at the National Institutes of Health, Veterans Administration and National Science Foundation — not to mention the cold, wet blanket being thrown over brilliant foreign graduate students seeking to study the sciences at American universities — research on Parkinson’s and other neurodegenerative conditions (as well as all other diseases) has more or less skidded to a halt. I’d love to hear otherwise. But the truth is that we are in completely uncharted territory in terms of what we ever dreamed or expected about the future of this country. As the rest of the world embraces clean energy and prioritizes the arts and sciences, the ruling junta in Washington can't goosestep backwards fast enough — doing away with everything that really has made America great. Watching this cabal of feckless, testosterone-driven children implement their Project 2025, my mind circles back to a single line from the haunting, beautiful Story of Isaac by the late Leonard Cohen: “A scheme is not a vision.”
A couple of posts ago, I called out to some of my political heroes – including AOC, Bernie Sanders, Rebecca Solnit and Pete Buttigieg – to announce a March on Washington for May 1. A day or two later (nothing to do with me) such a march was declared: for April 5th, one week from the day I’m writing this.
On that Saturday, people in all 50 states will unite in one or more of their cities — hopefully in the hundreds of thousands. This will be one of the first steps toward organizing a powerful and cohesive resistance. It’s sink or swim. To quote another brilliant songwriter: “We’re far from the shallows now.”
I never knew you were a ping-pong player! We had a ping-pong table in my basement growing up. My dad loved it. I'm worse than terrible now though...... Glad you found people to play with!
I really liked, “can’t goose step backwards fast enough.” Good work, Jeff!