Watching the world’s best is bad for my tennis. Perfection unreachable. Every year – Always like never before, mind the gap between the professional and the wanna be.
Thurs after Wimbledon. Third time back on court.
Maybe it’s the coaching balls, a little flat against the racket, maybe it’s the racket strings a little bit worn out and lacking any spring. Whatever the reason everything feels uncoordinated this morning. Maybe inadequate, is a better word as the Wimbledon fortnight tennis overdose and expectation, still travels my veins. Racket to ball is a clumsy unco-ordinated action. In fact two separate actions accidentally colliding to hit the ball.
Have I really tried this hard for this little reward? Seemingly. Do I want to do it anymore? And the energy so much less than it used to be a few weeks ago. Where to go from here.
Fri 19th
It’s a reboot.
After a couple of weeks out of the gym. The morning, shall I shan’t I discussion was gently to and froing in my head. An extra few days rest would do no harm and there was plenty of other things to fill the time. On the other hand my body felt stiff and just a bit pah! And …. well the arguments for and against can go on for ever until it’s too late to take any action. I know I have been there. I am there, experience must count for something.
A couple of extra pounds on the weighing scales at 12st 6lbs. On balance it was to be the gym
A venture into the darkened bedroom where my wife still sleeps to quietly retrieve, shirt, shorts and socks. Even while tying my running shoes the discussion continues, though ‘going to the gym was winning’ as I have never (yet) turned back once shoes are laced. There is still time to consider jog or car, a pathetic consideration on such a beautiful morning. Though I did concede to jog the shorter route. And off I went, gym shoes in hand, keys pushed into the toe of the left gym shoe and kept in place by my disposable water bottle – now approx 3 years old!
A gym session made up almost completely of stretching the body out feeling parts that have reverted to sedentary, without the regular pushing and prompting, to become more flexible. I am by nature one of life’s bricks. When the physio says relax, I say I am and he rolls his eyes to the ceiling in disbelief. So for Mr inflexible today I reawaken my muscles, and tendons and joints to some twisting of the torso – feel those intercostal joints complain, some deep squatting – boy does that hurt – stretch the hip flexors – painful, and sit on my heels – quite a pleasant discomfort.
Jog home slowly. It is a very slow jog. A year ago I feel like I would have been going at least 50% faster. Surely the decline is not that great?
For now I am pleased to have made the effort. I am wondering where my next game of tennis or practice is coming from. The quest is faltering it would seem. Though this morning was a small positive step.
Walk the dogs, have breakfast and sit down to do some emails. The intention in fact is to do at least three hours and make a real dent in the task list.
I am barely 30 minutes in. 9.30am the phone lights up with a message. Fancy a hit today? Clay is free from 11-4pm. Mmm. It’s not an immediate yes, it takes probably a minute to process my options properly. The emails, well the majority can always wait until later. Before I hit reply to say yes, I remember that both rackets need restringing. Calculate 11.30am as very doable and say yes please.
At 10.30am the racket is on the stringer and ready to go. First having manhandled the cumbersome machine from the store, sorted out the extension and tools. Found the reel of string, removed the broken strings and set to work. At first I am fumbling trying to rush, when I know to follow the correct steps and embrace the time pressure by moving smoothly but quickly.
The mains are done without incident and it’s onto the slower process of the cross strings. I have also in my wisdom lowered the tension by 2lbs. Something I have been thinking of and with no immediate competition, now seems as good a time as any to try.
Working as quickly as I can, interspersed with getting changed into tennis kit, making toast and coffee, filling water bottle, adding a banana to my bag. Messaging to say running 10 minutes late, before I am late. Borrow wife’s small car for ease of parking, hoping for a road parking space. Finally stand on court 15 minutes late.
Not one jot of thought given to actually how I will hit the ball.
The racket response initially feels a little soft (which I don’t like) with the ball sitting a moment longer on the strings at this slightly lower tension. These thoughts pass quickly as other things are more pressing. How slow I am today to get into position. I am making a positive effort to have a wide stance with flexed legs, keep the left hand lower on the frame to respond quicker and more consistently on the backhand and follow through outwards and over the shoulder.
The main problem as ever is trying to win the point on the first strike or being so passive that the ball either does not clear the net or lands conveniently half court for my opponents put away. At first there is little in between and the score reflects the improvements I am slowly able to make 3-6, 5-0 and time to stop for coffee.
Sometimes you just have to believe. Let expectation evaporate. I know it will get better if I keep at it. Always like never before!
