Bronze

Being second is not as good as being first. I love the process, though. I have no one to share the process that my girlfriend put me through, or should I say, my ex. She is no longer mine. She also was not fully mine while we were together. It hurts to see it and know it. She didn't tell me or admit it, but it is now evident. Well, I am pretty sure at least it was not physical before, but now that she has left, now it is on all levels gone.There are levels to this game. There are levels in all games and lives. Someone is on a plane, and someone is in a submarine.

Her feet were solid, strong on the hard yet smooth ground, balanced stance, muscles in full state of readiness, skin vibrating from excitement. The girl from Hungary, Mark's table tennis doubles partner, was serving to win her and Mark the bronze medal in the world championship. They didn't make it to the final but can fight for the bronze. She put everything in her pendulum serve, and the opponent hit the net. She hugged Mark, who was sweaty and hot as paper. They have it all and earned bronze. In that moment, it meant a lot to Mark. He could play to recover from his girlfriend leaving. The table tennis was the place where he put all his passion now.He put this new bronze medal with his other medals. One thing was evident—the bronze was the main color of his medals. In fact, there was a bunch of bronze medals. No other colors were spotted.

A box full of third places. This hurts me. I will throw them away somewhere. Who cares about third place? I need to get better.I picked up my phone and, hesitant to make a call as always, I just pressed the button somehow. Maybe it is adrenaline from not sleeping enough.

"Hallo, Alex?"

"Hallo, Mark." Alex's voice from the other side was deep, and in the background, there were some sounds that resembled the balls hitting tables.

"Wanna play?"

"Sure."

I sat in my car, looking at errors that my car is showing for like a month now. I was not ignoring these errors. I am just waiting for the right moment to call the car guy. Three errors—one is for the suspension system, one is for lack of windshield fluid. Now I have a dirty, cold windshield. I will need to fix it. I will fix it when I get the time.

There is one French table tennis player that has a really cool windshield serve. That serve is so hard to return. Maybe I should do some of it next time when I play.Oh, I can't wait today to play again. I really feel that I will have a chance against Alex today. I mean, I will not win, but I will make him struggle today. I can just feel it.I arrived at the table tennis club. The room was hot and nice. On a winter day, a hot room like this is all a man can need. Alex was drinking hot black tea, and on a cold day like this, hot black tea is all a man can need. Alex also loved coffee.

Maybe coffee is all a man needs to be happy?

"Mark, do you want coffee?" Alex yelled from the bar.

I was stretching for a match. "Yeah, sure, make me one black." Nice, Alex will be making me coffee. I figured out now what truly and mostly every human being on this planet needs to be happy in winter. Hot room followed by hot black tea, followed by hot coffee, but not just any coffee—the coffee that someone else makes for you. Life is simple. You need only this one thing, and you are golden. But it would also be good if I could play well today, and also I would like to win some sets, or a whole match would be ideal, but don't get greedy, Mark.

"Coffee is ready, Mark. Let's play until it cools a little bit."

"I want to be free. Weeee!"5-3"You don't even know what freedom is. Ahh!" I hit the forehand hard. "Aaaaaa!"6-3"Sure I do. Weeee!"7-3"Anyone can define freedom as they like. Ahhh, forehand! Ahhhhh, backhand! Gahhh, slice!"10-3"Yes, they can, but you define it badly. Aaaaaaa!"11-3"Easy work, lightweight," maybe someone would say. "Weee."

We were changing sides. Alex was destroying me today as well. So not fair. He is probably not even playing with full power. It is almost as if he is letting me win, but he still wins by like eight points."Oof, this coffee hits the spot, man. It is really good." I was sitting in this little chair at the bar in this table tennis club, having fun as always. There was one thing on my mind, though. Okay, two things, or like five minimum.Can I be good at table tennis again? Can I win against everyone? Can I be the champ?

"Alex, I want to participate in the tournament that is this Saturday, the 14th."

Alex was easily slurping his coffee as an Asian would slurp delicious noodles. "Yes, sure, man. I will write you down. But you know what is on that date as well as the tournament, right?"

"I know, I know, but me and my girl celebrate it a day earlier or a day later to avoid the chaos and just people in general. We like it to be special. I mean, I don't like the 14th of February at all. It is for me the same as any other day, but my girl likes all holidays. We are like chocolate and vanilla, you know."

"Yeah, I noticed you are really opposites, man. But, but that works, you know. Look, me and my girlfriend both like extreme sports, and it is nice, but sometimes we are overcompetitive, and we don't know to take a break. But if you are different, you kinda fill each other's gaps more."

"Yeah, I hear you, Alex. Same is with me and you, I think."

"I have a good forehand, and you have a good backhand." I was also slurping coffee, but it was a little weak for my taste. I like to add even more coffee than Alex.

"You mean you have a good forehand, and I have good everything? Ha ha ha."

"Yeah, you could say it also like that, I guess."

"Alex!"

"Yes, Mark?""What if I get fired and I can't do anything else good?"

"What are you talking about? You are best at what you do, whatever the job that you do, you know, the one with computers and like mouse and stuff."

"Project Manager."

"Yes, yes, that marketing," Alex said, evidently happy with himself.

"Manager, not marketing."

"Same thing. You are working in corporate. Let's be real here. Mark, do you know what freedom is for me?"

"Yes, you always say to me that you want to travel and do anything anytime you like."

Alex was shocked for a second. He then focused. He looked at the ceiling with the intent of murdering that ceiling. His brain was working. I know the wheels inside his potato head were turning like a clock."HMM, yes, that is true, but true freedom is responsibility.""You see, Mark, it is—""I agree." I cut him off.He was shocked again. "You do agree?""Yes, for me, freedom is just as you said—responsibility and accountability. If you don't have that, you are not free."

"Well, Mark, let's play one more set and lock up.""Let's do it."We both stood up. Alex was like a robot—no emotions, just ready to play.

"I hope you do well at the tournament."

"I hope that as well. Can my girl come and watch from the bar if she agrees?"

"Sure, man."

I was walking out of the club, and then I remembered one crucial step, one thing that makes a man happy and that he needs to be happy, but also makes him sad, and it's all he needs to be sad. I forgot that I don't have a girlfriend anymore. Now someone else is with her. Some other man has all that it takes to be happy.