28th May 2007
Hi all,
Had a bit of a shock to the system last week, as I made a long overdue return to the Squash court.
When I say overdue I should really clarify when I last played. I don't think I could put an exact date on it, but I think it was before my usual opponent Stuart's daughter was born. That's his daughter, not my daughter, and his daughter is now at school. Not good.
So when talk about squash developed from "we need to play again sometime" to a "what about next Tuesday?" level we had a commitment to return. Meanwhile our respective wives made jokes about "Do you know where your racket is?" and "Should we have an ambulance ready, just in case?" As much as I was tempted to sneer and bite back I had to laugh and bite my tongue instead, especially when I discovered that my racket wasn't where I thought it was.
So where did the love of Squash come from? Well oddly it was one of the few things my parents agree on, given that both loved the game. It took me a while longer, as regardless of much the sport has done to make it more TV-friendly it just doesn't translate well to the small screen. The reason? In my view professionals are too good, and are so fit that just about any ball is retrievable. Therefore points go on forever.
When you start to play Squash you quickly realise that points don't last forever, because when you're just average mistakes happen far more quickly. Even points which do last longer aren't anything like what you see on TV, as the two of you are unlikely to be producing perfect shots to and retrievals from the back corner of the court.
As an enthusiast instead of a professional it is the desire to not lose the point that leads to you and your opponent scampering around, flipping the ball up against a wall before it bounces twice on a few occasions. What then usually happens is that one player is just too tired to play just one more shot well.
My earliest memories of playing were against a guy I went to college with called Iain Lewis. While most people referred to Iain as fat this was somewhat unfair as he was pretty powerful when it came to sports (as I found out during Rugby games at school when he ran at me once), and this was no exception in squash. To begin with he used to beat me, then we went through a spell where I would usually beat him, but by the time we left college he was usually beating me again.
There were a couple of memorable games that Iain and I had. On one Tuesday afternoon (when we usually played, for reasons that escape me) I was in a foul mood, and discovered that Squash was the perfect outlet to take out some frustration. In among a few, "Are you alright?" questions from Iain I played probably as well as I ever did, or will for that matter.
College life led to us working odd hours, and Iain and I once played before college began. Unfortunately for him while he was leading the first game 4-0 and I was trying to wake myself up Iain game me an alarm call, via a shot to my upper left thigh (ahem, don't make me go all Forrest Gump on you). I don't remember who ended up winning that match, but I did win that game 9-4 while the stinging sensation slowly subsided.
Now, years after my last game, I was hoping to avoid any other unpleasant sensations. Wristband, check. Racket, check. Squash-only trainers, check. Still the most comfortable trainers I have? Yep. Thank goodness. Ridiculous comedy bandana that won't put Stuart off? Not today.
Of course looking the part and being the part are two entirely different things, and as I began to play again I felt ridiculously rusty, losing the first two games in what felt like no time at all. I rued my serve, rued my backhand and even rued my previously reliable forehand. When the third game began in the same vein I started to think playing Squash again wasn't such a good idea.
Fortunately then the instincts started to return. The game started to slow down and I felt more at ease. I edged the third game, and then continued to win the fourth. Feeling better and better I went up 8-3 in the fifth and final game when I made a huge mistake. I saw the end in sight. With the thought of "just one more point" in my mind I suddenly felt tired. Stuart came back, tied the score at 8-8 and eventually won. Arrrggghh!
We returned home, spoke about when we would next play and then went our separate ways for the night. I then decided to stretch for about fifteen minutes before jumping into a shower, hoping the combination of the two would help me feel somewhat normal on Wednesday morning. Thankfully I did. It wasn't until Thursday that my calves started to occasionally show signs of cramp, and that my right shoulder started to ache. Can't win them all I guess.
Have a good week!
Tony
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