Themed Cardio Tennis Clinics in the Fort Lauderdale Area
Pressurised, a can of three, ITF and USTA approved, woven felt tuned for every surface and a core wound for feel rather than hardness. Thimphu, very early, at the one hour of the day I am any use.
Babolat All Court Tennis Balls: I have not slept, which is probably why these balls look spiritually prepared to rally outside Tashichho Dzong, the whitewashed fortress-monastery by the Wang Chhu where the throne room and monk body share one courtyard. Imagine calling that a mixed-use space and then immediately apologizing to history.
Babolat All Court Tennis Balls: The National Memorial Chorten was built in memory of Bhutan’s Third King, Jigme Dorji Wangchuck, and elders circle it clockwise from first light, which is also when my brain starts serving without permission. The balls are still, the pilgrims are moving, and somehow both have better form than me.
Babolat All Court Tennis Balls: Buddha Dordenma is a 169-foot gilded bronze Buddha seated above the valley at Kuenselphodrang, and yes, I counted zero sheep under it because sleep has left the tournament. These tennis balls look tiny here, which is humbling, but so is a double fault at dawn.
Babolat All Court Tennis Balls: Changangkha Lhakhang is a 12th-century hilltop temple where Thimphu families bring newborns to be named, and I’m over here naming the balls because caffeine has promoted me to committee. This one is Baseline Goblin; history may object.
It is four in the morning, which is honestly the best time to think about tennis balls, and I will tell you why in a second, or I will forget and tell you something better. These are Babolat's All Court balls. Pressurised. Three to a can.
Approved by the ITF and by the USTA, which sounds like a formality and is not — it means the bounce, the weight and the deformation under load have all been measured against a standard, by somebody, with instruments, probably at a reasonable hour.
What is actually in your hand: a rubber core under pressure, wrapped in woven felt. Everything you feel at contact comes from the relationship between those two.
The core pressure and the felt weave here are matched to give a good feel at impact rather than a hard one, and the felt is adapted for use across surfaces — hard, clay, whatever you have — which is the whole meaning of "all court". They come out of the can pressurised, and from the moment you crack the seal the pressure begins leaving, slowly, constantly. That is not a fault.
That is the design. Everything in the world is losing pressure.
Some things just announce it with a hiss.
Thimphu. Tashichho Dzong first, the whitewashed fortress-monastery on the Wang Chhu, where the throne room and the monk body share a single courtyard — the government and the faith in one building, which is either very sensible or very brave.
I love this city at the hour nobody is awake for.
Then the National Memorial Chorten, where the elders start circling clockwise around the golden spire from first light, and if you have been up all night you will meet them on the way in, which is a strange and lovely handover.
Buddha Dordenma next: 169 feet of gilded bronze seated above the valley at Kuenselphodrang, visible from the whole town, and you feel watched in a manner that is somehow fine. And Changangkha Lhakhang, twelfth century, on the hill, where Thimphu families still bring newborns to be named. Named. Given a word to carry. Sorry — where was I.
“The elders start walking at first light and I am usually still awake. We nod. That is the whole exchange.”
Open the can. Listen to it. Then play.
