With a clumsy racket that appears to have been run over by a bus, the world’s best court-tennis player, Chris Ronaldson, whacks a hand-sewn cloth ball and sends it skipping up along the roof of what looks like a wooden shed.
It ricochets from roof to wall, and onto a stone-floor court in the vicinity of his opponent, Wayne Davies, who stands on the other side of a conspicuously drooping net. Ronaldson’s “giraffe” serve has the wickedest of spins, but Davies knows Ronaldson’s game like a favorite tune. He swats a punish ing salvo to the world champion’s backhand. Ronaldson shuffles into the corner and, feigning a shot to the grille, catches Davies fiat-footed. The champ drives the ball into a bell-equipped window to his left, called the winning gallery. Bong! Point, game, Ronaldson.