Well Played

I lay flat on my back, exhausted. Normally pickleball is played to 11, but one has to win by two points.
By the one of us won by two, the score was 58-56.
Match time?
Four hours, twenty-two minutes.
The crowd was enthusiastic every second of the four hours. Even though it was past midnight on a weekday, the size didn’t diminish; if anything it grew. (In an unnofficial survey of the crowd, many were flying straight to the US Open after this.)
Dispite my fatigue, I managed to crack a smile, raising my limp arms in victory.
Lin was still in shock, constantly checking the scoreboard to see if I’d actually won. “You might want to close your mouth,” I quipped, “lest a fly decides to sit in it.”
“Oh shut up.” Cricket came down, grinning from ear to ear.
“Well played ladies! I expected a show, but that blew me away! We’d better get back to the apartment so you two can rest. You’re gonna need a good eye for tomorrow.”
“Why is that?” I asked, afraid for his answer.
“We’re headed to an archery range tomorrow.”

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