Disclaimer
This is a personal family blog, written from the perspective of an increasingly weather-beaten parent. Any sporting opinions are entirely my own, memories may have been enhanced by caffeine, and no eight-year-old’s future Wimbledon prospects should be assessed on the basis of anything written here. Children mentioned are discussed only in the context of the tournament. Please apply the usual amount of common sense.
Summer has apparently turned its back on the English countryside.
After several months during which Britain briefly experimented with becoming southern Spain, normal service has resumed. Rain. Grey skies. More rain. Localised flooding. Weather warnings. The occasional biblical-looking cloud formation hovering somewhere over Somerset.
Naturally, therefore, we decided that Saturday would be an excellent day for outdoor tennis.
What could possibly go wrong?
The destination this time was Martock, which at least had the considerable advantage of being relatively close to home. No motorway expedition. No strategic departure at 7:15am. No service-station breakfast. Just a short drive through Somerset for an U10 Grade 5 tournament.
Five players.
Round robin.
One FAST4 set per match, with a seven-point tie-break at 3–3.
In theory, beautifully simple.
Unfortunately, we had overlooked one small problem.
Eddie did not particularly want to play tennis.
The Preparation Phase: Absolutely Textbook
Preparation for junior sport is obviously enormously important.
Hydration.
Nutrition.
Sleep.
Mental preparation.
Early night.
All the usual things recommended by coaches, sports psychologists and sensible parents throughout the world.
Eddie went to bed at approximately 10pm the night before.
Excellent.
By Saturday morning he looked tired, felt tired and had all the enthusiasm for competitive tennis of somebody being invited to help reorganise a garage.
Nevertheless, we were entered.
So off to Martock we went.
Great.
There were several familiar faces there and, looking at the field beforehand, I thought that if Eddie played reasonably well he had a realistic chance of finishing somewhere in the top two.
This assessment contained one important assumption:
That Eddie would play reasonably well.
Match One: Brontë
He did not.
The first match was against Brontë.
From the opening few points it was obvious that we were watching the Saturday Morning Reduced-Energy Edition of Eddie.
Little movement.
Very little topspin.
Ready position apparently cancelled due to staff shortages.
His groundstrokes lacked their usual conviction and he frequently looked as though he had arrived on court while mentally remaining somewhere in bed.
One positive was the serve.
That has improved enormously recently and continues to look much more reliable. The mechanics are getting better, the ball is coming through quicker and, importantly, there are now periods where serving resembles an intentional sporting action rather than an experimental launch programme.
Unfortunately, tennis also requires the other shots.
Brontë did what was necessary. She kept enough balls in play, made fewer mistakes at the important moments and deservedly won 4–2.
Was she significantly better than Eddie?
Probably not.
Was she better than Eddie during those particular twenty-odd minutes?
Absolutely.
Which, rather inconveniently, is how tennis works.
Eddie knew he hadn’t played well.
Tears followed.
And, for once, I didn’t particularly disagree with his assessment.
Not because losing is something to cry about. Losing happens constantly in sport. But I think he was disappointed because he knew the performance had been well below what he can normally produce.
There is quite a difference.
Match Two: Clement
Tournament organiser David Kirkham was simultaneously running what appeared to be approximately seventeen different tennis competitions across the venue, so there was a decent wait before Eddie’s next match.
Around forty minutes.
Plenty of time to reset.
Have a drink.
Eat something.
Calm down.
Forget the previous result.
Begin again.
That was the theory.
Instead, Eddie managed to carry most of Match One emotionally into Match Two.
An impressive feat of luggage transportation.
His opponent was Clement Briot.
The blueprint remained frustratingly familiar.
Not enough movement.
Not enough shape on the ball.
Too passive.
Waiting for something good to happen rather than making something good happen.
Clement, like Brontë, did not need to produce extraordinary tennis. He simply competed better, stayed in the rallies and won the points that mattered.
Another 4–2 defeat.
Again, entirely deserved.
Again, not because Clement possessed some dramatically superior tennis arsenal, but because on the day he did enough to disrupt Eddie and then took advantage when opportunities appeared.
Which is precisely what competitive sport is about.
Two matches.
Two defeats.
More tears.
At this stage our predicted top-two finish was developing certain mathematical difficulties.
Match Three: Jay
After another break came match number three against Jay Carr.
This one had some history.
We first encountered Jay sometime last year at a tournament at the ARC in Bideford. That day he struggled considerably with his emotions on court. This went beyond the fairly normal junior-tennis frustration of shouting, crying or becoming upset after losing a point. There was racket throwing and the tournament organiser had to intervene.
We hadn’t seen him since.
So none of us knew what Saturday would bring.
Rather surprisingly, Eddie started brilliantly.
He held serve and then broke Jay.
2–0.
Olga and I had deliberately positioned ourselves some distance from the court.
Sometimes junior tennis is better observed from afar.
Ideally another county.
It removes the temptation to react to every point, allows the children to work things out themselves and significantly reduces parental blood pressure.
From our position, however, we noticed Jay throwing his racket against the fence.
David was occupied elsewhere managing the considerable tournament schedule and initially hadn’t seen it.
Jay then held serve.
2–1.
Eddie served next and played a very convincing game.
3–1.
And then things deteriorated.
Jay threw his racket into the net.
Picked it up.
Then threw it against the fence.
By this stage David had seen what was happening, came across and gave him a warning.
I moved closer to the court mainly to make sure Eddie was okay.
To his credit, he handled it surprisingly well.
Given his own emotional state earlier in the tournament, I was actually quite impressed by how calmly he dealt with somebody else’s frustration.
Jay, meanwhile, ended up lying on the court while his mum came across and did her best to help him regain enough composure to continue.
Junior sport can be difficult.
Children become frustrated. They get angry. They cry. Emotional regulation is something they are still learning.
But throwing rackets around a court is different.
Apart from the sporting behaviour issue, there is also an obvious safety problem when other children are nearby.
Eventually play resumed.
At 1–3, Jay served again and at one point appeared to begin before Eddie was properly ready.
Not exactly the handshake-at-centre-court spirit Wimbledon likes to advertise.
Eddie nevertheless kept himself together and eventually won the match 4–2.
His only victory of the tournament.
Oddly, however, it was probably the match we enjoyed least.
A win is normally supposed to produce some degree of satisfaction.
Instead, everyone mainly seemed relieved that it was finished.
I’ll be providing specific feedback about what happened separately because behaviour involving repeated racket throwing needs to be managed appropriately, particularly when children are sharing courts.
That doesn’t require demonising an eight- or nine-year-old.
It simply requires adults to set clear boundaries.
Match Four: Avik
The final match was against Avik, who ultimately won the tournament.
By now Eddie’s chances of winning anything other than perhaps “Most Emotionally Complicated Saturday” were gone.
Avik played well.
More importantly, he played consistently.
And at U10 level that remains one of the biggest differences between players.
You don’t necessarily need spectacular winners.
You don’t need 110mph serves.
You don’t need Carlos Alcaraz-style sliding forehands accompanied by several thousand screaming Spaniards.
You mainly need to put one more ball back over the net than the other child.
Avid made fewer mistakes than everyone else and deservedly won the tournament.
Sometimes the analysis really is that simple.
So, What Did We Learn?
From Eddie’s perspective, this was not a particularly good tournament.
He wasn’t mentally ready to play.
He was tired.
His movement was poor.
His usual topspin largely disappeared.
He became upset after losing and struggled to reset between matches.
The encouraging part remains his serve, which has taken a noticeable step forward.
And although the tennis itself wasn’t particularly good, I was pleased with how he dealt with the unusual circumstances during the third match.
That probably says something about junior sport.
Development isn’t always measured by forehands and backhands.
Sometimes it’s remaining relatively calm while somebody on the opposite side of the net is throwing sporting equipment at surrounding infrastructure.
From our perspective, the day wasn’t particularly enjoyable either.
Two disappointing performances, plenty of tears, difficult behaviour on another court and the general feeling that perhaps staying at home with a cup of coffee while watching rain run down the conservatory windows might have been underrated.
But these tournaments are part of learning.
You play when you feel brilliant.
You play when you don’t.
You win matches you probably shouldn’t.
You lose matches you probably could have won.
And occasionally you discover that sleeping before competitive sport is actually quite useful.
Who knew?
For future events, though, we will certainly consider the overall environment as well as the tennis itself. Competitive junior sport inevitably produces emotion, but repeated racket throwing and similar behaviour needs firm management so that everyone on court can compete safely and enjoyably.
Saturday therefore finished with:
Four matches.
One win.
Three defeats.
Several tears.
One improving serve.
And rather more airborne tennis equipment than anticipated.
A perfectly normal Grade 5 Saturday, then.
Next weekend brings something slightly more important:
Somerset county trials.
Hopefully Eddie will arrive rested, motivated and ready to play.
Or at the very least we’ll attempt the revolutionary high-performance strategy of putting him to bed before 10pm.
Marginal gains.
After the tournament we went to Pip’s farm shop and “restaurant” which is worth a visit as you are able to dine in an old train carriage or old double decker bus. In addition the food is splendid.
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