‘’Yes, badminton?!’’ - the reactions I get to my sport
There are moments in life when you realize how many prejudices people carry with them. For example, when you tell someone that you don't like horror movies. Or that you've been vegetarian for years. Or that matcha, despite the hype, doesn't really attract you. Then you get looked at as if you've just announced that you're allergic to oxygen. My all-time favorite? The reactions I get when I tell them that I spend my Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays in a badminton hall.
‘’How do you even think of that?’’
Yes, badminton. As soon as people find out that this is my sport of choice, the same thing always happens. They blink. Then they tilt their heads a little. Sometimes a soft ‘’oh?’’ escapes, sounding as if they need to refocus their mental image of me. And it ends with their jaw almost hitting the floor.
Even before I can explain why I choose to hit sixteen goose feathers and a cork over a net, the barrage of questions begins. And the first question is always the same: ‘’How did you get into that?’’ Which actually means: ‘’How do you even think of that?’’
The answer is simple: my mother
When I was just about to sit up, my mother and my brother already used me as a ‘center point’ to determine where the net would be. Then they casually played rallies over my little head. My dear brother sometimes found it fun to ‘accidentally’ smack a shuttle my way. You would think this would make me run screaming from the sport, but I did the opposite.
I am far from the only one. Within the club, I often see children and their parents standing together on the court. I see it as a kind of sporty inheritance that you unconsciously pass on. A bit like those little family rituals that no one remembers how they started. That makes the atmosphere at the club so enjoyable. You haven't even hit a shuttle yet, and it already feels familiar.
Badminton as a holiday memory
But anyway, back to the conversation. Because as soon as the first question is neatly handled, question two is immediately prepared. It’s the next line in the script that everyone seems to know word for word. ‘’Do you also play matches?’’
This question is usually asked in such a tone that I sometimes think people believe that badminton only belongs between two plastic garden chairs on a slightly sloped lawn. So yes, I play matches. Competition, even. With real teams, real opponents, and real shuttles that fly faster than you think. It’s almost endearing that people can look even more surprised.
Badminton is faster than you think
Many people have a gentle image of the sport. In their minds, the shuttle drifts slowly down, just like it surely did at the campsite. Before you hit, you could still take a selfie, edit it, upload it, and even then still win the point. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Badminton is fast. Very fast. It’s sprinting, turning, catching, slowing down, hitting, and running again. I always look like a little tomato on the court. And take it from me: charming is not the word.
A good friend of mine didn’t believe any of it. ‘’Okay, but how hard can it really be?’’, she asked with the confidence that only someone who has never tried it can have. Of course, I took her with me the following Tuesday evening. After just three rallies, she looked at me as if she had seen the light. Words were unnecessary; her face said it all. Since then, she has been almost noticeably polite when I talk about my sport.
Why badminton means more to me than just a camping memory
Still, I genuinely enjoy all these reactions and questions. Badminton is for many people a holiday memory; sun on your burned shoulders, flip-flops on, and the smell of the barbecue that has been simmering for hours. Those summers in France carry a kind of nostalgia that people love to talk about. And I listen attentively.
For me, badminton has now become something different, but I enjoy it perhaps even more than I did then. So yes, I spend my Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays with a badminton racket in my hand. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
