Saturday Handball
The game was just an excuse
Somewhere along the way, I realised that Saturday handball was never really about handball. The game was just the excuse we needed to get everyone in the same place. We came saying we were going to play, but what really mattered was being together — catching up, laughing at absolutely nothing, talking nonsense between games, and pretending we still had enough energy for one more match.
With ft. Denston, Rashmi, and the rest of the gang, the court became less of a sports ground and more of a weekly meeting point. The score became secondary, winning became negotiable, and somehow the post-game conversations became more important than the game itself. Some of us were there to score goals, some were there to defend, and some were just there to make sure the water bottles were getting enough attention.
Of course, we still played hard — or at least we like to believe we did. There were great goals, questionable passes, dramatic reactions, unnecessary celebrations, and the occasional moment where everyone's body collectively reminded us that we are not professional athletes. 😂 But every Saturday ended the same way: tired, sweaty, laughing, and already looking forward to doing it again.
Looking back, I think that's what made it special. We didn't need a big plan or a special occasion to get together. We just needed a ball, a court, and a Saturday. Handball gave us the reason to show up, but the people gave us the reason to stay. And honestly, that was the real win.