British Tennis – Grrrrrr

So we lost in the Davis Cup to Lithuania, hmm. They have a yearly budget of 2p and we have one of £73m. Our best player doesn't think it is worth representing his country, that has spent how much developing him? Hmmmm. We are facing the threat of being in the lowest tier of international tennis. Grrrrrrr. Something is wrong….

Britain has as many talented tennis kids as any other country. In my not so humble opinion we coach the ability to be professional tennis players out of them, not into them. Rant coming? You bet.

I was a tennis kid, and a pretty good one. I grew up in a tennis town and played every single second I could from the first day I picked up a racquet, until, thoroughly cheesed off with the system I gave up at 19 and didn't play for 20 years. Why did I give up? I was sick to death of the cliques and undercurrents in tennis. The kids with less talent but pushy parents getting their kids into coaching programmes that grooved them to have the perfect swing. They all looked the same and played the same. I see that happening again now. I play against clubs where I know that the teenagers are always beatable…rocket first serve, forehand like a bazooka, nothing else. No imagination, no backhands, no courtcraft. That is the undercurrent…get a few ranking points, 5 racquets and a big bag and you have made it – rubbish.

Like so many things in life, those that succeed are those that move along the path less traveled. In British Tennis there is herd mentality. I take my hat off to Judy Murray who took her kids out of the system and abroad to learn and grow – my guess is that if they had been in a UK tennis school they would not have got to where they have got.

We groove our children out of the maverick mentality that is needed to get to the top.

Where is our McEnroe or our Becker snarling their way to winning Wimbledon? Here they would have been put into behavioural therapy to calm them down.

Roger Draper should go – we don't need an administrator, we need a lunatic who will produce the goods, and stick two fingers up at anyone who gets in his way. If we want to be a great tennis nation again it is very simple – here is the blueprint:

1) Appoint a Tzar, not a pencil pusher.

2) Get more kids playing – why did Draper not act on his promises on the Tony Hawkes initiative?

3) Murray play your part – win a major, then as happened in Sweden after Borg there will be an explosion of kids desperate to emulate their hero.

4) Kill the cliques – put the Regional Tennis Centres well away from the trodden path, and put young, hungry, non-establishment coaches in charge of them.

5) Stop lauding ex-top 500 British Tennis players. Top 500 is not a role model, it is a failure – sorry guys.

My guess as to what will happen without this blueprint? Nothing, bugger all, zip. More safe hands, more jobs for old boys and administrators, no Wimbledon, and Davis Cup ties against Moldova.

Actually why not give the job to Tony Hawkes…

It’s good to be back

Yay hay. I have played tennis for the last two Sundays, pain free! I have always been a tennis player, but for the last few years have had a series of very dull injuries that have kept me out for blocks of time, which when you add them up, mean that I haven’t had an injury free run for nearly three years. I had almost forgotten what it is like to play and how much I love it. Unfit, touch not great, but hitting the ball well. I’m sure I could bore for Britain on tennis but won’t (right now, no guarantees that I won’t in the future), just wanted to say:(in song)

“It’s good to be back, it’s good to be back, c’mon”


Random Acts of Music #7 C’est la vie (You never can tell)

Written by Chuck Berry whilst in jail, through movie stardom in Pulp Fiction to a German country-pop band, one of the most covered songs…here is the Texas Lightening version and the Uma Thurman/John Travolta dance:

Random Acts of Music #7

Find it, buy it, love it.  Enjoy…and comment please!

Last night in Twisted River

I heard a good quotation recently " I like a good story, as long as it doesn't go on too long", no idea whose  quotation it was. Sadly this is how I feel about John Irving's latest novel Last night in Twisted River. To be upfront I am a John Irving devotee and have followed his  work since I discovered Setting Free the Bears, and Garp when I was at college. I look forward to every new novel that he brings out, buying them as soon as I can get my hands on them, and devouring them.

John Irving is a master at developing characters and is one of the better storytellers it has been my privilege to read. I feel as he's getting older, his books are getting longer. In my humble opinion he would benefit from a good editor who would tell him to keep the page count down slightly which would keep stories more pithy. The length of the novel did not worry me with Until I Find You, which I still find to be a wonderful read, but in the case of Last night in Twisted River, for the first time I could put the book down.

As always the characters are just wonderfully developed, especially Ketchum the maverick woodsman. The story itself is a captivating. There are the usual John Irving references to wrestling, early-age sexual initiation, and hands being chopped off. As always there are moments of sheer comic brilliance – this time with a naked skydiver landing amidst the pig roast. The read is very enjoyable and I of course recommend the book, but rather than this being a full-on flat-out recommendation for once it comes with a slight rider, which is that 100 pages could have been taken out of this book is without there being any discernible effect on the story, the outcome, or the beauty of the writing.

I'm not a literary professor but I've read many many great novelists, and one thing that they all have in common is that every word counts, be they Dickens, Shakespeare, John Fowles or Dostoevsky. I will still await John Irving's next novel with bated breath but sincerely hope that next time around is more concise & I can get back to enjoying one of my favourite novelists.

Coincidence? I don’t think so

My mother-in-law Eira is a lovely woman with a heart of gold. Due to various incidents over a number of years, we have thought of her as being mad as a box of frogs, and this has earned her the nickname "Frogs".

She just announced that she has hooked up with a group of ladies she used to work with before her retirement called, Fairwater Retired Old Girls Society. Yes you guessed it, her new group is called FROGS.

Coincidence? I don't think so.