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| The "Small Plaza Cafe" |
So right across the street from my airbnb there's a cafe/bar of sorts — Cafe Mali Trg — that in my first week or two in Podgorica I went to fairly often, to work online with a cappucino, or a Coke, or a beer. I go there less, now, that I've become a little more familiar with other/better options, but still sometimes.
There are, as far as I can tell, only two people working there, never at the same time. One a slightly over-enthusiastic-but-friendly guy, generally in the morning, and one a slightly sullen and quiet much younger guy in the afternoon and evening. This younger guy had some live tennis on the TV in the corner one afternoon and seemed fairly knowledgeable about the sports, so I asked if her played, he said yes, and we agreed to play sometime.
His name, it turns out, is Andrija, and he's 24, a little racist (the Turks here, he said, are "dirty," as are the Russians — I'm not sure, actually, which ethnic group he doesn't consider "dirty," but I haven't explored the subject much), and a little homophobic ("it's ok, you know, but they don't have to put it in our faces all the time"), but ... really, mainly he's just 24 and is convinced he absolutely knows how the world works, and is happy to make pronouncements about other people.
Anyway, we ended up going to a local indoor tennis court last week, and ... to nobody's surprise more than his own, I ended up beating him remarkably easily, 6-2, 6-0, 6-0. I'm not sure it was that close. 😃
The reason I mention it is he commented afterwards that I was much more mobile than he expected, and "I move really well for [my] age." I murmured that I don't know how much longer it'll last, but yeah, I still do all right.
He also told me, the next day, that the other guys at the cafe/bar had asked him, when he got back, how he did, and he had been forced to tell them that — in his words — "he kicked my ass." They were, apparently, amused by this. "That old guy, with the gray hair?!?!" He had been forced to tell them, "yeah, he moves really well."
So that was cool.
He wanted a rematch — I don't think he genuinely thought he could beat me, but he was eager to play when he wasn't hung-over and had a bit more of an idea what to expect. So we played again yesterday, at a different-and-this-time-outdoor court.
And I beat him 6-0, 6-1, 6-1. 😀
Afterwards we went out for some drinks, before I made my excuses so I could go home — stopping to get a pizza first, of course — and watch the Tigers game and then the Crystal Palace game, both of which were, this time, successful. A good day all around.
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| A Pilsner Urquell with Andrija at Big Horn |
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I have no doubt most of you will roll your eyes at the fact that I care so much about things like this, but ... I still do, honestly. I'm acutely aware that my "youth," such as it is, will not hang around much longer. And that, of course, there are many many young people in better shape than Andreja who will not find my tennis skills and mobility quite as impressive as he does/did.
And several times my back has hurt in ways that have prevented me from exercising or running the way I want at the gym, and my sore shoulder prevents me from serving quite the way I want to, and used to be able to.
So I don't kid myself. But dammit, I don't want to be "old" yet, and so, even though my gray hair and, presumably, the lines on my face and growing gut and normal bedtime betray me ... I do enjoy that this young guy not only wants to play against me but can't beat me (or come close), but also asks me to get beers with him and is disappointed when I make my excuses and head out. Decrepitude and death are coming sooner rather than later, unfortunately, but they're not here yet.
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