Stice stuck to the window: the net-post that kept a piece of tongue till spring
I’m getting these real unpleasant memories of that piece of Ingersoll’s tongue on Nine’s net-post that stayed there til spring.
Context
The tennis architecture has form for claiming flesh. Stice's dread of losing forehead-skin summons the precedent: "that piece of Ingersoll's tongue on Nine's net-post that stayed there til spring," left behind after a dare on frozen metal. The equipment of the sport — the net-post, the court fixtures — can take a literal piece of a body and keep it, a small grisly relic hanging on Court Nine for a season. The instruments outlast the flesh they tear off.