ITF Felixstowe June 2021

I am strolling along the length of the grass courts that will soon welcome the first competitors to this the 7^th Felixstowe ITF Tournament. I’ve arrived early. For the moment it is just me, the referee and a couple of helpers out on the courts, installing the singles posts and checking the nets. 

The fresh cut grass, with pristine white lines, all prepared for the players who will soon arrive from places across England (and Wales) including Clacton, Manchester, Cumbria, Liverpool, Warwick, Gloucester, London, Cardiff, Portmouth from memory. Peter, Derek, Sean, Arthur, Kevin, John, Sally, Lindsay, Gareth, Alan, Rob and others drawn from their local clubs to try their luck on the grass at Felixstowe. This the first ITF of a Covid disrupted season. 

I feel relaxed, rested and calm, drinking in the atmosphere on this perfect summer’s day. The clubhouse setting off the courts perfectly and proclaiming Felixstowe Lawn Tennis Club established in 1884. 

The natives are friendly and we are soon chatting, then hitting a few balls back and forth. For me the first time on a grass court since I think about 1995. I am advised, hit it hard and it will bounce true, slice and the ball will slide away on the lush turf, hit it soft and it will drop gently to the turf. Sounds like good advice.

Without a ball being hit in earnest, the doubts of the previous week, whether to travel or not are erased. This feels like a good decision, why such doubt just over  week ago, deciding whether to enter or not. 

Just over one week earlier …… 

5.05am awake early. Tuesday 15^th June 2021. ITF Felixstowe entry closes this morning at 10am. The decision has been sitting heavily on my mind, switching this way and that. Should I, should I not. Question; do you become a good player because you act like one, or do you wait until you are a good player before you act like one?  

Or more precisely what possible sense does it make for this average tennis player to travel 356 miles taking 6hrs 4mins driving according to Google, to go from Cornwall to Felixstowe? That is a long way to go for a game of tennis. Is it too far? One moment I think it is, the next I am telling myself to just get on and do it.  

Thinking, evaluating, analysing, considering. We discuss. I unconvincingly, offer that the days could be put to better use on ‘DIY around the house’. The reply surprises me “we should go” I had not expected that. Result. 

Game on. It’s now 8.45am and entries close at 10am. Log onto ITF site, bring up the Felixstowe tournament, enter men’s 60s singles and doubles, with partner wanted. 

Horror of horror’s. The screen says ‘ipin expired’. The ipin is the key to unlock ITF services online. Oh hell! how do I renew my ipin number. Panic rising. What a disaster this could be, having decided to go, to be undone by an expired ipin. In a slight panic, I scroll and click looking for where I  might renew. Fearing the worst that it may not be an instant renewal. Panic rising further, I phone the ITF for advice. Unusually these days someone answers the phone, though does not immediately know the answer, but offers to pass my query onto the appropriate department, who will get back to me asap. I go back to searching for a place to renew. Eventually I find the renewal button in the ‘my i-pin’ part of the site. Several clicks later i-pin renewed and tournament entered. Phew! that was close. 

And now …… 

Players are arriving. Friendships renewed, stories exchanged. Elbows bumped in greeting. ‘Shame that Bournemouth was cancelled’ I hear ‘and now Harpenden too’. Phew! That was my alternative  if I decided not to travel to Felixstowe. We are still in the era of Covid, nothing is certain. Temperature checks are standard, symptoms questions are asked and answered, declarations of good health checked. All clear. Good to go. 

The first matches are soon underway, and scoreboards begin to register the games. The competition is unfolding in front of my eyes. The first floor balcony of the clubhouse provides an unrivalled view across all courts, but specifically illuminates the play on courts one and two. In fact from the balcony, play is magnified, you can sense composure, boldness or nervousness and witness reckless shot making. There is tremendous endeavour and  tension in critical moments, as the ball clips the line or bounces just out of reach.

The referee is keen to get matches on court.  Asks me if I am ready to play a full hour before the 4 pm scheduled time. We compromise on a 3.30pm start.  Having travelled all this way I want to be able to give my best performance. I am a player who likes a few minutes to compose himself. Set the mind for what I expect to be a challenge. First competitive match on grass for more than 30 years.  

I take myself to a quiet part of the grounds and run through my warm up routine. Get the heart rate up, breathing more heavily, feel the pimples of pre sweat rising, working through ranges of motion for all major muscle groups. On the inside, my mind is settling on the task ahead, reminding me of the game I want to play. I walk slowly back to the clubhouse, now ready to play. 

A little later I am able to buy my opponent John, a cup of tea. The civilised etiquette offered by the victor. I have my first main draw ITF win to celebrate. It’s been close, the score of 6-3, 6-3 a poor indicator of the struggle in the second set particularly and a long game to level at 3-3. 

The next morning a light drizzle greets players arriving for their matches. After  a half hour looking to the skies, the referee reluctantly decides that the day’s matches will have to get underway on the hard courts. We are allocated acrylic, tarmac or carpet. 

I am on the carpet and find that I quite enjoy the surface even though I come up short 6-3, 2-6, 7-10. My concentration wavers momentarily in the second set at 2-2 on my own serve. Blink and the second set has gone. The key point in the tie break comes at 7-8, having won three points in a row. I can sense that if I can make 8-8 the balance will be shifting in my favour. A loose backhand glides wide and its 7-9 and moments later we are tapping rackets Covid style at the net. My turn to be the receiver of the after match cup of tea.  

Later in the day I team up with John for a close fought doubles against Lindsay and Gareth on the court farthest from the clubhouse. We lead with breaks in both sets, but eventually the score reads 5-7, 7-5, 9-11. I double fault at 9 – 8 om match point and drop the next service point also. My serve has been poor all match. Gareth demonstrates how to finish a match serving a clean ace wide to the advantage court. Second match of the day lost on the tie break and this time from match point up on my own serve. It even hurts to type that! 

I look at my shoes for a moment, then walk slowly to net, tapping rackets ‘well played’  I hear myself say and mean it. There’s an inner voice rising as I slide my racket into the bag. I bite the last piece of banana and then as if needing to take out my frustration on something, slam the banana skin into the grass. It responds in the only way a banana skin can, by flopping limply on the grass. I laugh inside at the absurdity of trying to vent my frustration though a banana skin. Somehow that makes me feel  a little better. 

By the time we walk back to the clubhouse, we are all chatting amicably. And it’s that time of day when a cold beer feels more appropriate than a cup of tea! For the moment the pain of defeat recedes, while we chat about this and that, tennis stuff generally. Similar conversations that have probably been held here post match since 1884! 

Later, lying in bed before sleep, the double fault on match point comes back to taunt me again. Soon though I am asleep. Waking the next morning to look forward to my next match. 

Thank you Felixstowe I had  great time. Hope to see you again next year!