It started on Tuesday with the air conditioners. Four of them. They were heavy and cumbersome and getting them out of the windows and down two flights of stairs to the basement was not easy. But Russ managed to get them stacked and covered and only felt a slight twinge in his lower back when he was all done. Nothing serious.
On Wednesday he spent the morning racking and bagging twigs and acorns. He was surprised at how quickly he tired from the task. There was no denying the ache that started in his upper back but Russ was not overly concerned since it was his lower back and hip that had given him so much trouble in the past. Afterward, he knocked off a quick workout in his garage. First working with his free weights and then some sit ups along with a couple of sets of leg squats and chin ups. He finished off his routine with some work with the medicine ball and then five minutes of jump rope. He felt tired but good and was sure he would be ready for his tennis match on Friday night.
That afternoon he rode his daughter's bike up to the repair shop to pick up the van. Russ could have called for a ride but he thought it would be a good workout for his legs. It was not far but the bike was too small and his knees were crammed into his stomach. He had to hunch is back and shoulders forward so he could make it up the hill on Stoughton Street. Russ was stubborn and he refused to walk the bike up the hill. He needed to prove to himself that he could still do it and that he was in excellent shape for a man of his age, which he was. His legs burned and he could feel the strain in his knees. It was an unusually warm fall day and it felt good to feel the wind and the sun on his face as he rolled into the shop. Mission accomplished indeed.
The trouble really began early Thursday morning when Russ was still stiff and hadn't limbered up yet. The refrigerator repair man was coming and without thinking he started to pull the huge Kitchenaide out from between the custom cabinets so it would be accessible when they arrived to fix the ice maker. Russ probably didn't need to move the big monster since they repair service would most likely handle that job. But Russ was stubborn and besides, the unit was on rollers so it should have been easy.
It wasn’t. Russ felt a sudden pain in his lower back the second time he tugged on the stainless steel door frames. It didn’t seem too serious. Besides, he would just stretch it out later.
Friday morning he was up and out of bed and making breakfast for the kids and hustling them out the door so they would not miss the bus. Except his teenage daughter did miss the bus. So he jumped in the car in his bathrobe and took off so they could try and catch the bus at the next stop. They were right behind it when it stopped and the safety lights started to flash and the stop sign swung out from just below the drivers side window.
"Okay. Get out," he said.
"No way," came her reply. Her tone was flip. Where do these girls learn to talk like this Russ thought to himself?
Russ stuck his hand out the window and signaled the driver to hold up.
"Quick. She's waiting for you," he ordered. "Go."
"Are you kidding Dad?" she snapped. "Everyone's watching."
By now traffic was starting to back up and the driver was waving her hand for the student to come along.
"So what if everyone's watching?" Russ said incredulously. By now his voice was starting to rise.
"Just drive me to school," she commanded.
"Your brother will miss his bus if I do that," Russ tried to explain. He could feel the tension rising in his spine and lower back muscles. Everyone was, in fact, watching them now. Russ looked up at the back of the bus and could see Tony what’s his name grinning as he looked down at the old Camry.
"Get out of the fucking bus, Goddamn it," he roared and even Russ was surprised at the explosion that was erupting out of his mouth.
"I hate you," the girl said as she crawled out of the car. "Seriously."
Russ drove back to the house and got his son breakfast and off to school but he was starting to hunch over. He took two Advil and a long, hot shower but it didn't help. By the time he drove to work and pulled himself out of the car he knew he was in trouble. He would never be able to find a replacement for him tonight so he convinced himself that he would be okay if he took enough Advil and stretched before his match.
They had been playing together every Friday night for over a dozen years and even though it was a friendly match everyone wanted to win. They also knew that the scores would be recorded and their winning percentage posted on their Facebook page that the group set up a few years ago. They were not in an official league but they started tracking their wins and losses 'just to keep the matches interesting.'
There were twelve guys in their group and Russ was near the bottom of the rankings. He needed to start winning some sets soon.
"Are you okay?" asked Prakul.
There were a couple of Indian players in their group along with some Europeans and one Asian player. Tennis, more than any other sport was melting pot, which was another reason Russ was attracted to the game.
Prakul meant 'good looking' in Hindu and was a good fit for his friend. He was a favorite with the ladies at the club and was in high demand for their mixed doubles matches.
But there weren't any women on the courts tonight. It was late and it was just the four of them on court six the way it always was on Friday night. Russ said he was just a little stiff but they could tell it was more than that. They tried to talk him out of playing but he refused to listen.
"I'll be okay," he growled. "Besides, I can't make it any worse. Let's go."
There is something strange about the human body when it is called upon to preform during competition. Adrenaline helps, of course, but for many athletes there is a place deep inside that takes over even when the player is injured. Russ was hardly an elite athlete, just a middle-aged baby boomer playing a game with his friends. But he liked to think that he was mentally tough like the pros and so he pretended he was young and strong and different, even if he couldn't stand up straight tonight.
Russ picked Ray as his partner because, at forty, he was the youngest. Russ knew he would need as much help as he could get running down lobs and overheads. They got off to a quick start, winning the first three games but he knew it would not be that easy. Prakul and Dick were a tough team and he knew they would try to break him down since he was hurt. He would do the same to them if the tables were turned.
Prakul and Dick won the next two games and Russ was just about to resign himself to the fact that this would not be his night and that he was a fool for even trying to play. But giving in was not in his nature.
He would have to really concentrate now; keep his head down and watch the ball all the way through contact. He had been through this before having played for more than twenty years. Russ was nearly sixty years-old now but everyone told him he still looked closer to forty. Still, rarely a week went by when he did not have some type of ache or pain somewhere. Often he would compenstate by bending his knees more or exaggerating his follow through or some other trick just to help him focus on his mechanics.
So Russ chipped and sliced the ball and blocked the serve backed as much as he could. He stepped into a few shots and even managed to crack a couple of passing shots up the sideline. He fought the pain, told himself it was not that bad. He served out the set, even sneaking in a few serve-and-volley points just to throw them off guard. They won the first set 6-2 which surprised all of them.
They fell behind 2-5 in the second set but Russ refused to doubt himself now. He was tiring but contiued to urge his partner on and not to give up just yet.
"Don't back up," he said, almost as much to himself as to Ray. "Keep attacking."
Doubles is an attacking game. Attack the ball, attack the net, attack the pain. That is what he did and Russ and Ray tied it a six sets all. They finally won it with the help of a couple of lucky shots and some amazing gets by Ray. A close line call and a net chord dribbler sealed it for the 8-6 win.
Russ took an extra long shower, turning the temperature up as hot as it would go and letting the water cascade down his back. Next time, he thought, let the repairman move the stupid refrigerator.
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