Memories of a Squashie

Squash, it's a game like no other;

The pace, the skill, the tactics, We love it!

Practice, practice, practice some more;

Fixture night comes, we all hit the floors.

The hit-up itself is part of the puzzle;

Find all thats good, determine what's trouble.

Watching on your opposition;

Looking for the winning position.

The match begins, the shots are cracking;

The sweat raises quickly, the points are stacking.

Pretty soon its one or the other;

A handy lead or a spot of bother.

Between games - comes the team captain;

With words of wisdom to gain some traction.

The message is simple - "go hard or go home!"

"Racquet up!" "Mate, You're not alone!"

Sometimes the night it goes your way;

Everything works on a perfect day.

But when it doesn't it's important to know,

That if you went hard, there's room to grow.

You learn what you can, you take it on board.

And for your opponent you offer applause.

The game is over, nothing left in the tank;

Advice from a clubman, for that you give thanks.

You catch your breath and find a cool breeze;

You rehydrate, you drink with speed.

Then upstairs you go, you referee others;

You watch, observe, help out your brothers.

The social banter goes on strong;

Into the night the squash goes long.

Plenty of talk discussing the match;

Squash fever's real - it's easy to catch.

The elder statesman - a legend of club land;

Offers his say - on your own squash brand.

You take it all in, deep thoughts you draw;

Back to the practice, to search for yet more.

And so the cycle continues on;

The squash court is simply where we belong.