Melodies of Movement

Passing the open door of a gymnasium yesterday, my ears registered the unique sounds of a friendly floorball game. It lacked supporters and had few utterances of pride or disappointment or tactics calls to teammates. The squeaks and squeals of gym shoes twisting and braking against the floor reminded me of the spring cries of birds outside. The intermittent swishing crack of the sticks making contact with the holed ball and the pounding of feet that approached and retreated enhanced the pleasant refrain.

Each sport, sans spectators, has its own staccato melody. The drum dribbling of basketball with sporadic slaps as the ball is passed and caught, compose a unique background to the friction wails of shoes on polished wood.

Badminton includes the hiss and dull pop of racquets giving the feather ball new trajectories, resembling a hot summer day of flitting dragonflies and surface-snapping fish.

The ever changing beat of a table tennis game, “click clack click clack,” drones on with the erratic heartbeat of a confused grandfather clock.

Like a dramatic thunderstorm, the crescendos of an ice hockey match are built on slicing skates that whoosh like wind-propelled rain. Sudden cracks of thunder startle as stick hits puck or a player is tackled into the side. Their voices calling out to each other sound like performers on a dimly lit stage singing their fear and encouragement.