Anyone for celery?

You beat me with the celery,
Yes, that's what you do.
You creep on up behind me
With your silent hullabaloo.
At thirty love you serve an ace,
A fleeting glimpse of white.
I'm much to slow with my response
To your stick of dynamite.
But my deadly weapon's still in tact,
My organic forehand killer.
I return your next painful blow
With a spontaneous Steffi thriller.
You laugh at me and score again
With a quick flick of your celery.
I break a string. I'm limp and bruised.
But you rejoice at my injury.
Those who can be serious groan,
"Why are you being so rude?
Will you please remember your table manners,
And not play with your food?"