From: Positively Positive
By: James Altucher
“I was shot twice by the time I was 13,” Wally told me. “I owned six guns. Everyone I grew up with then is dead,” he said.
He then walked back to his side of the ping pong table. He took out his iPhone. Using his iPhone as the racket, he served the ball.
He beat me 11-0.
“Ok,” he said, “everything you are doing is wrong.”
The way I held the racket was wrong.
The way I stood with my legs was wrong.
The way I hit the ball and then the way I followed through after the hit was all wrong.
The angle of my wrist was wrong as I waited for the ball to come to my side was wrong.
The way I held the racket at a slight angle to the table was wrong.
My backhand was all wrong.
The way I had grown up and lived my life was mostly wrong.
He kept streaming shots at me non-stop.
“No, no, no,” he said. “No! Go up!…No!…Close the racket…No!…Use the other foot to shift weight…No! No!”
So we stopped.
He came over to my side of the table. He was looking down. I was afraid he was thinking, “why am I doing this?”
He stood behind me and grabbed my arm and moved it up as if I were hitting the ball.
“See!,” he said. “Like this. Like this.”
I wanted to be friends.
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