Fall Of A Tennis Ball

Here I was in the semi final of the 2003 Wimbledon, a game between two of the greatest tennis players who ever lived. As the semi final reached the third and final set, it was Roddick's famous serve. Time slowed as the ball raced through the air. As the ball touched the ground, a word would haunt me forever, “Out”. Andy Roddick slumped in defeat, destroyed by the world No.1. Roger Federer, would progress to his first Wimbledon win.

My 15 minutes of fame was over. In the midst of the celebrations, I had been forgotten. Masses of people rushed to receive personalised autographs from the departing players while I lay deserted on the court neglected by the world. To the humans around me, I was just another useless tennis ball.

Days later, during the preparation for the Grand Final, a young ball boy looked at me and says, “you'll be perfect for Sammie” These were the last words I ever heard on the pro tour. In a blink of an eye, I was placed in a dark, prison that smelt of sweat, money and old food.

After hours of capture, I was allowed to venture out of the cell. As I was roughly pulled out, I was thrown at a Golden Retriever. The beast roared as it leapt towards me. It's large incisors crushed my body ripping holes in my pristine felt. Saliva drooled out of it's mouth. Pain shot through my body. I was back in the hands of a human. I had survived the first round.

Splash! James throw me into water. Down I went, deeper and deeper. Would I ever come up again? I floated back to the surface. The dog now chased me, heading into the waves. It grabs me roughly in its mouth and brings me back to James. This goes on for hours, until the sun went down. In just a few weeks my seam was splitting, fur tearing and colour fading. Now I'm reduced to a balding, dull and crippled ball. I was truly useless. Would you believe I once was a beautiful, bright young tennis, who dreamed to be in the championship at Wimbledon?

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