And just like that, we’ve hung up the mini rackets for a little while. Last weekend marked the last tennis tournament for the next 4–6 weeks — and where better to take a breather than the sunny(ish) courts of Yeovil?

We picked Yeovil for a few very sensible reasons:

1. It’s relatively local.
2. We haven’t been there before.
3. Some of our son’s Somerset teammates were playing.
   (Also: McDonald’s is conveniently en route — priorities.)

The Pre-Game Ritual

Like any seasoned sports family, we packed the cool bag of champions: iced tap water (hydration > Evian), protein bars, a questionable number of snacks, and the now-obligatory £20-a-bottle cooling spray (seriously, is this stuff made of unicorn sweat?).

Naturally, no tournament journey is complete without a pit stop at McD’s. You might say it’s part of the warm-up routine — nuggets for courage.

The Tournament Format

A nice clean round-robin of two groups (5 players each), then semi-finals for the top two in each box, and a “Compass Draw” for the rest.

Compass Draw: a delightful way of saying “You’re not in the final, but here’s something fun to distract you from the sting of it all.”

Match 1 – Local Hero vs. Slightly Sleepy Son

A tight opener against one of Yeovil’s own. Our son lost 8–10, and let’s just say… there were feelings.

Tears were shed. Rackets may or may not have been dropped in dramatic slow-motion. Onward.

Match 2 – Training Partners Collide

Next up: Spencer — training buddy, recently turned 9, and roughly the size of a medium oak tree.
A scrappy battle won 13–11 by our son. Cue proud smirk and renewed confidence. Also cue muttered comment about growth hormones.

Match 3 – Seth Strikes Back

Yet another nail-biter. A narrow 8–10 loss, which did not go down well. Our son, clearly auditioning for a dramatic theatre role, considered storming off. He didn’t. (Resilience: 1 / Drama: 0)

Match 4 – Twin Trouble

Final group match vs. Sam Gray (twin brother of Theo). Sam, a familiar face from the U8 squad last year, came out on top 10–6. This was the moment when our son seriously contemplated retiring from tennis entirely. It took a firm parental pep talk (thanks, wife) and a handful of grapes to restore order.

Group stage complete: 4th place. Not ideal in his book, but still meant a place in the 5–10 play-off bracket.

Compass Draw Chronicles

First match: A clear 10–3 win against one of the two girls in the tournament (who was, of course, also a year older and also taller).

Second match: 10–7 victory over the 3rd place from the other group. Now we’re cooking.

Final match (for 5th place): The Boss Battle — Sophie. U10 player. Tall. Strong. Served like Serena.
Final score: 3–10. Déjà vu, as this was the second time our son lost to Sophie (first was back in Taunton in April). He took it… well, not brilliantly, but not apocalyptically either. We’ll count that as growth.

Organizational Chaos (a.k.a. Kids Running the Zoo)

To be blunt: the tournament wasn’t exactly Wimbledon.

• No umpires.
• Minimal adult supervision.
• Players keeping their own scores and calling their own lines — which, as anyone who’s ever met an 8-year-old will tell you, is like asking a toddler to judge Olympic diving.

Some mild disagreements, some creative scorekeeping, but no major meltdowns (unless you count our son’s).

Still, it really wouldn’t hurt to have umpires — even part-time ones with a whistle and a clipboard.

Time for a Break (and Maybe a Biscuit)

So that’s that — the end of our mini tennis season.
Why the break? A few reasons:

• Burnout is real.
• There are other sports to juggle (swimming, martial arts, Parkrun, cricket… probably tiddlywinks at this rate).
• We’d like to spend a weekend without debating the relative humidity of tennis balls.

He’ll be back. Rested. Refreshed. Maybe even taller (we live in hope).

Until then, we’ll be in the shade, cooling spray in hand, cheering him on… from the sidelines of something else entirely.