Bull's Eye on the Court

My livestream cable was fraying—literally and metaphorically.

"You got this, king!" Leo whispered, but his hype-man energy wasn't helping. My phone was propped against my water bottle, livestreaming my first padel match to literally seventeen viewers. #InfluencerDreams.

Across the net stood Tyler—the bull. MVP of every sport, owner of a jawline that could cut glass, and apparently good at padel too. Meanwhile, I'd discovered the sport existed last Tuesday.

"Game point," Tyler announced, spinning his racket like he was starring in a sports movie montage.

I served. The ball hit the padel wall, ricocheted back, and somehow—I still don't understand the physics—I smashed it past Tyler's shoulder.

"WHAT?" he yelled, actually shook.

Then chaos erupted.

Mrs. Henderson's prize-winning French bulldog, Biscuit, who'd been napping behind the fence, chose that exact moment to stage a prison break. She burst onto the court, doing zoomies between our legs.

"BISCUIT!" Mrs. Henderson screamed from her porch.

My charging cable chose its moment to give up. My phone died mid-livestream. Seventeen viewers would never witness my greatest moment.

Biscuit stole the ball.

Tyler sighed—the long-suffering sigh of someone destined for athletic greatness who'd just been defeated by a 15-pound dog. He knelt, offered Biscuit a treat from his pocket (who carries dog treats? What was his life?), and handed me the drool-covered ball.

"Rematch next Saturday?" His eyes actually crinkled. "You're not terrible."

"Not terrible?" I echoed, weak-kneed for multiple reasons.

"Not terrible," he confirmed. "Also, your cable is trash."

He pulled a brand new charging cable from his bag—because apparently this was normal—and tossed it to me.

"I'm Tyler, by the way."

"I know," I said, then realized how that sounded. "I mean, everyone knows you. You're the bull."

"The bull?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's a new one."

Biscuit barked, sealing my fate.

Whatever. Worst case scenario, I'd learn padel properly. Best case? I'd finally understand why my best friend had been pestering me to try this sport for months.

Sometimes the best moments aren't the ones we stream. Sometimes they're the ones that die with our phone battery, saved only in memory—and one stolen padel ball with bulldog drool on it.