People think being a public tabletennis table is simple. Ball. Paddle. Bounce. Repeat. The reality? I am a home, a restaurant, a conference table, a witness and a dancefloor. I see more spilled drinks than actual sports. I am just one of 5.000 tables across the Netherlands. Together, we represent an investment of over € 10.000.000,-. That’s before adding the cost of installation, maintenance and removing the occasional “artistic” graffiti masterpiece. And yet, despite this investment in infrastructure, I spend most of my life waiting and dreaming:

Waiting for two people. Two people who actually bring paddles and balls. Two people who will treat me as intended. However, I live a life with never a dull moment.

00:00 – My bed partner Meet Frank, a local night wanderer who considers me his home. He doesn’t play pingpong, but he does appreciate my concrete roof as a trustworthy sleeping spot. I notice him approaching me, muttering about conspiracy theories, finally arranging his blanket (stolen from a café terrace, I assume) and lying down with one shoe on and one shoe off. I am not built for comfort, but Frank doesn’t care. Some nights, he tells me stories, about his glory days as a drummer, about that one time he almost met his idol and travelling all over the world. I do not know if Frank is okay, but he is here, keeping me company.

06:30 – I catch you A local early-morning jogger arrives, sits on me and pretends to stretch while sneakily scrolling through her phone. She looks around dramatically, checking for witnesses. She does one half-hearted leg stretch. Then she sighs, stands up and walks home like she just completed a 5k run. I got that!

08:00 – Parisian experience A cyclist pulls up, places a coffee and croissant on me and takes a phone call. The croissant disappears in under 30 seconds. The coffee, however? Spilled, right on my surface. He gasps, stares at the mess… then shrugs and leaves. Now I smell like a Parisian café. 10:30 – Chess is not my game Ah, it's 10:30. My most loyal visitors approach. Three retired men take their usual spots, each bringing a thermos of coffee and an endless supply of opinions. They do not play table tennis. They do, however, discuss: the state of the world, that one time one of them nearly won the lottery and why everything was better before 2000. The most embarrissing moment comes when their chessboard appears. I'm not into horses and towers neither a king or queen. I need some patience for checkmate. 12:30 – Crumbles all over A group of high school students storms in, each carrying at least one messy sandwich. They devour their food like they’ve been stranded in the wilderness for weeks. They laugh, gossip and drop more crumbs than should be physically possible. One student, clearly the leader, says, “Let’s play a game.” I perk up. Could it be? Actual table tennis? No. They use me as a coin-flipping battlefield to settle an argument about who has to buy snacks. One of them accidentally spills an entire soda. No one cleans it up. They run off. I now smell like sugar and betrayal. 14:30 – Always hope A young woman arrives. She sets her bag down. She reaches in. And then.... OMG. A paddle, a ball. I'm getting excited. She looks around, waiting for an opponent. Minutes pass as no one arrives. She sighs, packs up her paddle and leaves. My one shot at being used properly… gone.