Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, July 7, 1990 TAG: 9007070069
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: JACK BOGACZYK SPORTSWRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
The idea was to compete in one of the State Games' 29 sports. Table tennis was selected. I would have chosen synchronized swimming, but my partner, Doug Doughty, was in Williamsburg covering the Anheuser-Busch Golf Classic.
Before leaving town, Doughty assured me I would lose 21-0, therefore rendering this a "point-less story." Not so. I stood in North Cross' steamy old gymnasium across a table from two teen-agers, guys less than half my age who are ranked among the top eight players in Virginia.
I played, and I tried. It would be a stretch to say I competed. I was playing pingpong. Greg Etter and Chris Burner were playing table tennis.
Burner scorched me 21-2 in less than five minutes. The Richmond player was up 11-0 before I scored, and that only happened because he whiffed on one of his serves. I got the other point when Burner missed the end of the table on what he called a "loop shot."
Etter, of Goodview, went to a power game, taking chances because he knew I couldn't score on offense. The game at least ended respectably, 21-11, in about seven minutes. I somehow led 5-4, then spent a lot of time chasing successful slams by the Bedford County resident. Basically, that game went serve-return-smash when Etter served, and serve-return-return-smash when I served.
Burner, 19, and Etter, 18, are roommates at Atlantic Christian College in Wilson, N.C., where they will be sophomores in the fall. Each has been ranked as the top junior player in the state, and both are ranked among the top 200 players in the country. They play a very different sport from the recreational game I play about twice a year.
It took Burner about two points to totally confuse me. "Most pingpong players have trouble with spin," he said. "The different type of rubber [on the paddle] gives you a different spin."
I also hit long countless times. I had no control over the ball.
"That's because you had the paddle open-faced, pointing up," Burner said.
Burner played with too much backspin - not to mention talent - for me. Etter, a Staunton River High graduate, used more speed and topspin. I wasn't unlike a baseball hitter getting fooled by a curve or a back-door slider.
"You have to be able to figure out the spin on the ball, and then make adjustments," Etter said.
Listen, Greg, I was just trying to keep the ball on the table.
"If the shot was there, I tried to go for it, and some I missed," he said matter-of-factly. "I didn't have to worry about you trying to hit something. You were just trying to get it back."
It wasn't just at the table that I got a table tennis lesson. Before I played Burner and Etter, I got a crash course in a sport that is becoming increasingly high tech from Troutville's Flip Carico, the State Games' table tennis coordinator.
What pingpong players call a paddle is known as a blade. A decent one sells for about $60. The rubber - about $20 a sheet - glued on the blade varies in thickness, weight and hardness. The nubs on the rubber are called pips. The length of the pips determines the amount and type of spin. There also are reverse pips.
"The thing that's changed the most in table tennis is the glue," Carico said. "One reason Sweden kills the Chinese now is because Swedish players reglue [the rubber surface to] their blades after every match. When you reglue, you get faster spin shots."
Sweden is the top-ranked country in table tennis, followed by China, North Korea, the Soviet Union and South Korea.
Poland is eighth, the United States 20th. My ancestry and my nationality certainly didn't help me.
My highlight was when Etter said "Nice serve" after one of my offerings. Otherwise, maybe I needed to reglue my blade or reverse my pips.
Listen, how do you think Doughty and I would look in those synchronized-swimming nose clips?
by CNB