Albury-Wodonga 2008

The following is a light-hearted and witty creation by South Australian, Jill Wherry. All senior tennis players may identify with certain parts of this cleverly constructed piece.  It should be read in conjunction with the reports on Wodonga...

Albury-Wodonga 2008

            We’re wacky tennis veterans who represent our states.

            And band together once a year to battle with our mates.

            As booze and snappy outfits and then petrol must be bought,

            We’ll spend our kids’ inheritance without a second thought.

            Though most of us have trained in gyms, a few have trained in bars

            But fit or not, we’re rocking up expecting to be stars.

                        To Albury –Wodonga us good sorts have come this year

                        And hope to play like Margaret Court whose place of birth was here.

                        We’ve packed our pills and bandages, our asthma puffers too

                        And other stuff essential to bring action in the loo!

                        We’ve had our hips and knees replaced; the truth is we’ll resort

                        To anything at all that helps, to keep us on the court.

            We’re happy and determined and so grateful to be here

            And squeeze inside the uniforms that shrink more every year!

            On court heat may be stifling and throughout the day grow worse,

            And when conditions challenge us, the most refined may curse.

            Though power and speed are waning now and perfume’s drowned in sweat,

            We all insist we’re legends and our will to win’s there yet.

                        When it comes to choosing partners we often make a fuss

                        Because we’re all in need of one who’s twice as good as us.

                        If partners are fleet footed, also skilful, we’re in luck.

                        Sometimes we’ll just be ornaments and only need to duck.

                        As opponents hit balls over we’ll yell out, ‘Yours – Good shot!’

                        And we’ll never pull a muscle or suffer when it’s hot.

            Blokes suffering mid-life crisis here are really not to blame.

            ‘Girl’ players in their fifties still distract them from their game.

            But they have vowed to reach their goal and have no time to dream

            Those suave but ageing athletes must do battle for their team 

            Some ‘girls’ are acting strangely and are hot and flushed because

            They’re crazy, hyped up females in the throes of menopause.

                        But when the games are over, there’s a dinner so we’ll stay

                        And if our bods can stick the pace, we’ll dance till night is day.

                        Replaced hips are forgotten now as will power takes the strain.

                        A glass or two of bubbly helps to sooth the body’s pain.

                        But deuces and tie-breakers played are bound to take their toll,

                        So when midnight approaches, there’s less rock and much more roll.

            We’ll flop on chairs and bar stools for at last it’s time to laze,

            As friendships are cemented in an alcoholic haze.

            Post mortems are conducted as we pour another beer.

            Those blighters who defeated us, we’ll clean them up next year.

            But soon each couple will collapse, exhausted from the play,

            But beds will rock in spite of this; Viagra saves the day.

                        Please don’t advise us to give up and settle for a stroll

                        And don’t mention retirement or suggest we learn to bowl.

                        For while we’re fit and upright we will serve, lob, smash and pass

                        So glad we’re up still swingin’ on the right side of the grass.

                        We’ll pack our cases regularly because we have to roam

                        Before our fam’les capture us and stick us in a home.

                                                                                                                        Jill Wherry