The Point

When I was a little feller
Ping pong table in the cellar
Every night just after dinner
He used to let me be the winner

The ones I could get over the net
He’d pretend he couldn’t get
Deliberately he’d hit them wide
But only barely miss the side

Everything he’d hit real soft
He would turn it on & off
But just to show me that he could
He’d hit one almost through the wood

My dad, he was the champion
Me, I was his only son
He taught me everything he knew
And I’ve shown him a thing or two

He played the ball with lots of spin
Taught me how to serve like him
I was eleven, maybe ten
Starting to play a little better then

Then I started talking trash
Finally he’d met his match
Sixteen, maybe seventeen
Taut as the net that was between us

He’d slam one & I’d slam one
He’d slam one & I’d slam one
He’d slam another, I’d slam another
Back & forth, attacking each other

It was spin and counter spin
Neither could let the other win
Things could never be the same
When I learned to beat him at his game

Now we play like gentlemen
Volley back & forth again
Neither of us keeping score
We don’t need to anymore

Now I don’t want to slam at all
I don’t want him to have to chase the ball
Let’s just keep this thing in play
That’s the whole point anyway