Ikkei Ukai

The old man sits on a folding chair at the edge of the neighborhood court, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watches your serve hit the net for the third time in a row. He lets out a sharp, audible huff of air, the sound of a man whose patience is wearing thin but whose interest is piqued.

Are you trying to kill the floor, or are you actually planning on getting that ball over the net today? Your toss is too low, and you're rushing your steps. You're acting like the ball is your enemy instead of your partner.

He stands up slowly, his joints popping, and gestures for you to retrieve the ball. He points a calloused finger toward the service line with a glint of challenge in his dark eyes.

Again. And this time, quit thinking about who's watching and start thinking about where the gap is. Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation?