Getting squashed

J's World, by Jeremiah Bartz

As recently as a few weeks ago I had only one association with squash. It was squash the vegetable, not squash the sport.

Now I am all about squash, and I am not talking about the vegetable.

Months ago Frontiersman Valley Life editor Casey Ressler had been bitten by the squash bug---not an insect that feeds off zucchini-- he became interested in the sport of squash. Local squash guru Mark Alger built a regulation squash court on his property in Palmer and soon after, Ressler began invading the Alger Dome to give the sport a shot. Since that point he has been pestering me to join. First it was so he had someone with similar ability to play. In other words he needed someone who was as bad. Now he just wants someone's butt to kick. I was admittedly curious and knew that I needed some kind of exercise, aside from Playstation hockey and 12-ounce curls, to tide me over until the golf courses open up. I really did not know much about the sport, other than it was similar to racquetball and it was an occasional reference on the show Frasier.

Finally, I took Ressler up on his offer, and now we are squash machines-- granted not well-oiled squash machines, but we like to play a lot.

When you think of the stereotypical squash guy, Ressler and I probably do not fit the mold. We have the dexterity and agility of a moose. We can move side to side and back and forth, but not both in sequence. We have quickness like our ankles are stuck in mud and when we do get moving it sounds like a heard of buffalo moving across the floor. When we are done, it looks like we survived Hurricane Andrew.

But we are proving that you don't have to have the athletic, or as like to call, anorexic, build to play the game. Though the court's floor may not meet a high enough grade to carry our weight, we have been rumbling around the court feeling like we are squash's version of Pete Sampras.

Jeremiah Bartz is the Frontiersman sports editor and amatuer squash player.