With my strength increased, the gutting of my old, heavy racket also broke. I had to muster the courage to ask my parents for a new racket because I knew I needed a lighter, sturdier racket.
"Dad, can I get a badminton racket? The one I'm using is really old and it bro-" I asked him at dinner one day when I build up my will.
"Don't say that word to me. It's not like you'll ever even be good at it." He snapped.
I kept my head down, and tears were forming in my eyes. I worked so hard. I really was improving. I could do so much with my skill!
My sister pulled me aside after dinner, and silently handed me her racket. I gaped at her, unable to form words and I managed to say, "Thank you."
"Take care of it." She said and I nodded.
I took it to my room, and took it out of its cover. It was just as I remembered it- a white racket with orange and black accents all around it, with the cool shiny texture, carbon graphite, they called it. Its tension was much much higher than that old rackets', probably because it was a professional and advanced racket.
I put it back in its cover, and placed it carefully on the shelf I had where my old racket used to rest. My sister giving me her racket was just the push I needed to continue playing, continue improving.
The next day I went to play badminton a little later, when I knew all the good players played. I was aware I played significantly worse than them, but if I didn't play with them, any hope to be remotely good at this sport would be in vain.
I asked a group of women, who looked like they were in their mid thirties if I could play with them. They knew how to play, but they weren't agile and they had quite a few weak spots.
When I played with them, I realised that they moved quite lethargically and their motions were sub-par. They were the embodiment of 'If the shuttle gets past the net, we did well.' They didn't care of technique or anything, they were just playing to get some exercise in their bodies.
I respected their version of playing, but my vision of badminton was so much bigger than theirs. I wanted to be good. Playing with these women wouldn't make me good.
For the next week, I did what I did best: I observed the men who play amazing play. Then I practiced their movements on my own. I watched them play with stars in my eyes, every movement they made was so fluid and versatile.
Every man on that court (they were playing doubles, so there were four men) had his own unique style of playing badminton and their partners understood their strengths and weaknesses and both the pairs of men complemented each other's playing style so well.
A week later, one of their players did not come. One of the men who knew I was observing them, came up to me and asked me to fill their missing member's place for that day.
I agreed readily, but also warned him that I wasn't a good player.