I love ping pong. One of my fondest memories of childhood is playing against my father on our old ping pong table in the garage. It had as many dead spots as the old Boston Garden. Dad pulled no punches. He had a special paddle he'd been using since college. One side was sandpaper, the other was rubber. Dad played me hard and forced me to win on my own merit. That took several years. When I finally did beat him, this is how it felt:
Have a great weekend everyone!
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