The Ball

I was going through my old German essays and I came across this short piece. We were supposed to describe our favorite item. My choice was an old, broken ping pong ball from my basement. I wrote it with very limited knowledge of German, and at the time I felt frustrated that I could not express what I felt. Reading over it again, I feel like I my concerns were unfounded. My point comes across just fine in the broken German that was all I knew. Here's the translation:

Approximately three years ago I played a lot of table tennis. Every day I would go to the basement and talk with my dad. We would talk about school and other things. It was nice to have someone to talk to. When I required help, he would give me great advice. We also played table tennis. My father was very good. Beating him was a challenge. He learned how to play almost thirty years ago in Germany. I tried as hard as I could to beat him, but I never did. Unfortunately I don't play table tennis anymore. I have no more time.

The ball is very important to me. One can no longer buy this ball in stores, it isn't there. It's much better than the balls that are in stores now. I played with it a lot, and of course it broke eventually. This was the last good ball. It's a little bit crazy that I still have this ball. But whenever I see it I am reminded of my father. I spent so much time with him in the basement. The advice he gave me greatly influenced my life. It's sad that I can't play table tennis with my father anymore.

That last line probably wasn't true then. But now, it is indeed sad that I can't play table tennis with my father anymore.