the garage gospel: my body and I were one
I was in my body. My body and I were one. My wood Wilson from my stack of wood Wilsons in their trapezoid presses was a sentient expression of my arm, and I felt it singing, and my hand, and they were alive
Context
The martyrdom-story's before, and the doctrine's one moment of grace: at the fateful match the father was "in my body. My body and I were one," the wood racquet "a sentient expression of my arm," everything "singing" and "alive." This is the body-unity the creed promises actually achieved — self and instrument and limb fused into one responsive system, the boy "two, three, a couple shots ahead" and playing "with maximum economy and minimum effort." The whole tragedy of the scene is that this is the state he loses; the fall is the doctrine's grace withdrawn.