The Tale of the Dale O’ Meter

 As I walked our companion down the block, a man backed his One-Fitty pickup out of the garage, walked back in and snagged a Crud Lite out of the mini fridge. He wheeled out a leather chair and plopped down in his makeshift man cave. He fired up a stogie, flipped on the wall-mounted TV to Fax news, swiveled and cupped his hands.

“Hey Kobra,” he yelled. “When you gonna stop writing that nonsense? It’s all a bunch of cockamamie to me. I saw that picture of your buddies playing ping pong, and it looks damn wimpy to me. Why don’t you do something manly like hunting, or help me rebuild a riding mower engine for a friend. “

That brought out some insecurities in me, as I kept walking. Maybe I should man-up, make something useful for someone. You know I used to play table tennis at the Wood Dale Park District one night a week and met this old school player named Dale. Covid closed down the venue for years and Dale went underground, I mean playing in a bud’s basement. Years went by and finally I got the invite to reunite for some subterranean smackdown. 

Dale doesn’t deal in the game of loops and spin, he’s straight ahead, hit ‘em where they ain’t. Pesky pips on one side and some old rubber from a WWII inner tube on the other. But he’s got some major flatline pop in his forehand slam to compliment Charmin-soft drop shots. 

I asked Dale, “How’s your game been?” 

“Kinda stale. Stagnant over the last four years.” 

“Have you tried any new technology?” I asked.

No, I looked at that Paddle Pallet catalog and it’s overwhelming. I have no clue what to get. Those rubbers are expensive, and you can’t change ‘em like your socks if you don’t like ‘em.

“Suddenly I had an AH-HA moment..” I was a Cub Scout, took wood shop in high school, and studied electronics.  Over the next few months, I worked diligently. And this is the result.

The Dale O’ Meter (pronounced like Dale-ah-met-her) is a technological wonder designed to make the player mentally and physically ‘one’ with his bat. The instrumentation side, shown above without rubber, monitors each shot and reports the results back to processing and memory chips safely embedded within the handle. Over the course of play, real-time subliminal feedback from the handle into the player’s hand can radiate correctional measures. At the bottom of the handle, a usb port is available to offload the data for analysis. The back side of the paddle contains proprietary information and is purposely not shown. 

Where it gets exciting is in the Dockometer (not shown). Not only does it serve as a recharging station for the Dale O’ Meter, but it contains wireless connectivity which can send data directly to Daleometrics Inc. for analysis. For damaged or missing pips, the Dockometer uses 5-D printing and patented Chia-Pip technology to grow and completely restore all pips to their optimal condition. 

Since Dale has been using his technological marvel, it is rumored his ‘whiffs’ have declined 15 percent, and his point ending swats have increased by 20 percent.

A Reintroduction

  In my haste to tear off like the Roadrunner in the relaunch of Lombatts, I thought I might screech to a stop. The eyeballs seeing this are most likely the ones I will see across the table from me, and that is whom this site may interest. But in the unlikely event of a ‘outsider’ executing a cyberspace landing here, I have some ‘splainin’ to do. You won’t find much here that will improve your game. But someone taking a few minutes away from watching incredible YouTube matches, or instructional videos, will likely have their brows lowered here in this domain, disclaimer intended.

At Sunset Knoll, us 55+ players come from all walks, incorporate a myriad of playing styles, and express ourselves sometimes as if it was recess. SK is considered by some unofficially as the friendliest ‘club’ in Chicagoland, which some say translates to ‘inferior’. If you desire an ‘experience’ that is 180 degrees out of phase with this, you can set your compass nearly due north of here and enter the ‘interior’ of a different venue…and maybe feel ‘superior’. (Just having some fun. Privately operated clubs are tough sledding and kudos to those who open them. The more pong available the better.)

We generally get 14 to 18 players at the ‘Knoll, and the staff is so friendly and accommodating. As far as my references to the ‘dance floor,’ that’s what our room was primarily designed for. It’s spacious, bright, and even has railings and mirrors for those so inclined. There’s another ‘classroom sized’ room with a couple tables when it gets busy. Ten plus guys were scrunched in side by side there in early 2020 before someone said the word Covid.

So…Lombattants, yeah combatants. It could be Lombatt Ants, but nah. We play hard, and have fun. Myself, to the tolerance of the fellow players, toss nicknames around like nickels, and I do get some suggestions. If you see a green thing on the site with a hoodie, that’s Kobra, and some players call me that.

Ken

I’m in a Catatronic State or an Electric Slide into the Dance Room

 Oh Ron Cassidy, the Cat’s Kitty as I referred to him. The cat’s meow of room 10 back in the day. I think he, the Ali Cat, and Jeff maybe crossed paths just before Ron moved to AZ. An efficient player, Ron was the old school Eveready, the one with the Black Cat on it. If you crossed his path you faced a AAA blocker with a 9 volt positively charged slam, and seemingly 9 lives. Gave the ascending kids fits in tournaments. Fun and frustrating to play. I bet he’s still got it. 

But fret not, there’s no shortage of electricity in the room. I’m talking frenetic energy (er I mean kinetic) even with the ultimate Energizer, AEC (Antonic Energy Commission) maybe thousands of miles away. We have Ray O Vac, threads of black, poised to pounce—-on a serve with bounce, putting the joules in your Joola with his wide band shock and awe delivery. A big smack from his battery pack.

May the Force…Field…Bill? be with us this week.

Ken

Welcome Back Lombattants!

 For going on five years my paddle has been mightier than my pen, but the resurgence of play at Sunset Knoll has warranted a return of the table strokes into keystrokes. This resurgence, now accented by the return of ‘Jeffery Ballet’ (appropriately into the dance room) has unleashed a pent-up desire to return to the banter. The sweet metronomic drone, sudden outbursts, and light streaming in from the doorways of our sanctuary will not launch me into backflips a la John Belushi, but may inspire some backhanded compliments to be sprinkled in with the positive silliness which will occasionally populate this space.

Think of this as an extension of play, an overtime session where your comments are welcome. This will take a while to build, and will likely be ‘Lombatts light’ compared to the original. But your input can make it a better place. You can let the venom flow, but the Kobra frowns on ‘profangity’! 

Ken