Ping ping, boink boink, donk donk, and thwap! These are noises you might hear at Chicago’s YMCA racquetball court every Saturday morning.
“Score’s 8 to 10 on the third game buddy, ya know what that means?” Jerry said, panting with passion.
“It means I have 3 more points until I prevail.” Said Barry confidently, as he kept his unforgiving glare locked on the ball. Jerry scoffed, followed by a chuckle to ease the steaming tension in the room. As Jerry served the next round, Barry hit the ball in one effortless motion, bouncing it off the wall with wind breaking speed, flying right over Jerry’s head. The next two points continued on with Jerry only being able to sneak in a hit or two. “Good game my friend.” Barry said with a devilish smirk as he reached out for a handshake.
“Whatever Bare.” Jerry said, accompanied by a playful eyeroll.
The two made their way out to Barry’s Lime Green 2012 Kia Soul and drove to their apartment. “So when do you think the NRC is gonna get back to us?” Jerry said, referring to the National Racquetball Championship.
“Better be soon or else we’ll be too good for it.” Said Barry.
“Darn right man.” Jerry said.
Later that day, as Barry was doing his jigsaw puzzle, his cell phone rang. Barry jumped up, startled by the noise.
“Hello?” he said timidly.
“Hey Barry, this is Suzy from the NRC calling to inform you that you have been selected as a national contestant!”
“What do you mean?” Barry said, palms wet.
“It means you’ll be flown out to Norfolk, Virginia this next February for our official racquetball championship.” Said Suzy.
Barry tried his best to verbally contain his excitement as he hopped up out of his seat. Have I really achieved my dreams? Barry thought. “Ok, thanks!.” Barry said in a wobbly voice, failing to keep it cool.
“We will contact you shortly with more information.”
Barry put down the phone and started dancing around his room like a maniac. “Triumph!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Everything good in there, Bare?” Jerry said, concerned from outside Barry's bedroom.
Barry swung open the door, “Did you get the call?”
“No?” Jerry said.
“I made the NRC!” Said Barry.
“Oh. Good for you.” Jerry turned around, moped into his room, and slowly closed the door behind him.
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About 4 months have passed and Barry is packing up for the NRC. When Barry got recruited without Jerry they had about a two week period of not talking, until Jerry broke the silence by accusing Barry of betraying their friendship for the NRC. Barry fought this by saying that applying for the NRC was his dream to begin with, Jerry was just tagging along. The aggression only escalated over the days until Jerry couldn’t stand it anymore and moved to an apartment across town. As Barry packed his custom uniform he reminisced over all the great times the two had together training for this occasion. I threw all that away for this? He thought to himself. Should I call him? Was I too mean to him? Should I even go at all? He contemplated in his empty, silent apartment. Once his Adidas duffel bag was zipped up he had come to the conclusion that Jerry wanted nothing to do with him and their friendship had passed. The only option now was to dominate the court at the NRC.
After a long plane ride of listening to Celine Dion and waiting impatiently Barry had arrived at the Norfolk Airport. As Barry stepped off that plane he felt the cold wind of reality caress his receding hairline. This was really happening. He eagerly made his way over to the YMCA charter shuttle waiting for him outside, taking him to the Residence Inn. Once the shuttle had arrived Barry took his luggage, tipped the driver a nickel and, with a stride of steel, trekked through the sliding doors to the front desk to retrieve his room key. Once he entered his room, Barry set down his luggage to take out his uniform to begin ironing it for the big day. As Barry turned around to relax on the bed, he saw an Andes Chocolate Mint resting on the pillow. “Jerry loved Andes.” Barry wailed as he reminisced on the times Jerry would find all the maid carts in hotels to smuggle a pawful of Andes. Overrun with guilt, Barry crumbled into the sheets sobbing, holding the Andes over his heart.
The alarm rang at an alarming volume, waking Barry from his slumber. It’s go time. Within no time Barry pulled up his socks, slid on his uniform, and slicked back his hair to begin his journey to the YMCA. Barry didn’t sleep very well due to his meltdown over Jerry, but woke up with a new mind. After a quick shuttle ride, Barry made it to the front desk where a nice lady escorted him to a prep room.
“Barry Lockwart you’re up!” A male voice shouted into the room. Barry stood up with a wave of dizziness nearly knocking him to his knees. As he entered the court to the haunting fluorescent flicker, he heard cheering from the rows of spectators sitting opposite the glass wall of the court. Where is my opponent? Barry thought. Just then, he heard booming footsteps behind him. They sounded familiar.
“Ladies and gentlemen, what you have all been waiting for this lovely morning. Two very talented Chicago natives Barry Lockwart and Jerry Santrell!”
“Jerry?” Barry shouted relieved, yet terrified. Jerry glared back without saying a word and served. Barry was so thrown off he immediately missed the first rebound.
“Oh! Not looking good for Barry!” The announcer announced.
“Jerry, I've missed you. I'm really sorry about everything. I still have an empty room, you should come home.” Shouted Barry as Jerry wound up for the second serve.
“If you were really sorry then why are you here?” Jerry said as he hit the ball with all his might. Barry was left speechless. He knew if he tried to say anything he would end up sobbing. After Barry missed several more shots, he dropped his racquet and kneeled, looking up at Jerry. He knew it was now or never to get their friendship back and this was the only way to do it. Jerry laughed as he served balls over and over, gaining a point each time.
“Well we’ve never seen this before!” The announcer chuckled.
“Last point buddy, ya know what that means?” Jerry said, towering over Barry. Jerry raised his racquet for the final serve as Barry pulled the Andes from the hotel room out of his pocket. As Barry presented this to Jerry, Jerry’s smirk quickly sagged into sorrow. Jerry lowered his hands and faced Barry. Looking around him, at the chocolate, then at Barry, Jerry dropped the ball and racquet, helping Barry up. The two left the court to a very confused audience. As they walked out of the YMCA Jerry finally looked up and said, “I’ll think about that room Bare.”