Life on the Road

I hadn’t travelled to play a tennis tournament for awhile and it was interesting to experience the rhythms of life on the road . Here are three things I learnt, or rather, re-learnt.

1.    Lack of sleep. No matter how much tennis you play during the day sleep doesn’t come easily at night. Replaying the day’s matches and anticipating tomorrow’s keeps you tossing and turning. Being in a new place, having new experiences, seems to double your energy level. I remember one player on the circuit who used to go to bed at 9 pm but invariably rise in the early hours and pace the streets until light. At the ripe old age of 20, Boris Becker became addicted to sleeping pills. (Which was why he had that annoying cough on the court.) I can see why. Next time I’ll bring a relaxation CD.

2.    Waiting. Most of the day is spent waiting and doing menial tasks: Re-gripping rackets, filling up water bottles and adding electrolyte tablets, icing sore body parts, looking through your racket bag for the hundredth time for a lost sweatband, making small talk with other players, snacking, watching matches, trying not to think about your match. For some reason I can’t read a book before a match – takes too much concentration – so the days are long and are spent making sure everything is ready for those few hours you’re actually on court. And if it rains – the waiting only gets worse.

3.    Worry. Problems seem to get amplified on the road. A sore knee, a slippery court, a lost sweatband – any number of things can get into your head. Dealing with distractions is one of the big challenges, and quickly summing up what you can and can’t change is the key to keeping stress levels under control.

Also, sleeping in a lumpy pub bed makes you appreciate home.

Highs and Lows of a Tennis Pro

I was wired during my 6-hour drive home from Inverell. Not from any illegal substance (although Pepsi Max has so much caffeine it must come close), but from a weekend where I played some of the best tennis of my life. In the $5000 Platinum event I beat the number 72 in Australia in the third round, and took it to the eventual winner, Erik Chvojka, the number 6 in Canada, before going down fighting in the quarter-finals. Also made the final of doubles with the talented Josh Barrenechea who asked me to play via Facebook – a first. Some of the things I’d been working on came together – staying loose and in the moment, being more aggressive, believing in my ability to hit quality shots under pressure. Of course the slippery ant-bed surface helped – I practically grew up on the stuff. It makes everybody look a little slow – which helps when you are slow. No matter how good an athlete you are, if you get wrong footed on ant-bed you’re in trouble. My dropshot made the speedy Canadian slip over and scream in frustration.

Three days after that drive I was up against Ryan Agar, the 12^th seed and number 75 in Oz, in the QLD Claycourt. Although the body was a little sore, I was feeling confident. The book on him was he has loads of talent – but I could tell early in the match that his confidence was down. He was slicing groundstrokes around the court, content to let me run him around and use his foot speed on the slow and sticky clay court to counter-attack. I was making the play which meant the odds were in my favour, but somehow I squandered 7 set points in the first set and a 4-0 lead in the second to go down 7-6 7-5. It was a disappointing loss. It wasn’t that I played badly, it was that when I got the opportunity to deliver the killer blow I hit more like a Teddy bear than a warrior. Instead of going for winners on set points I played it safe and suffered the consequences. Just like I have many times before.

One of the reasons I took up tournaments again was to ignite some passion into my life. I wanted to feel some of the highs and lows that my 40-something self was starting to miss.

Be careful what you wish for.

My Year in Graph Form

Patrick Flynn - Breakdown - Rankings - Tennis Australia

Points of note:
Tennis Australia have a wrong DOB for me, making me a few years older than I am. I should correct this but it's kind of fun imagining a 16-year-old staring at a computer and saying, 'I lost to a $%^&*!@ 45 year old!'
Talking about age, most guys in the top 500 were born in the late 80s or early 90s, although three in the top 100 were born in the 70s - Peter Luczak, Joe Sirianni and Mark Draper. Kudos to them - especially Drapes who's turned 40. He still moves like a cat around the court. I'm more of a caterpillar (the machine not the animal. I chug slowly but steadily.)
Even though the search database stops at 1971 (TA must assume no one older are silly enough to play Open tournaments), a manual inspection finds there are 4 players in the top 500 born in the 60s. Neil Smith, the father of 3 tennis playing boys, is ranked 422 and was born in 1960. I remember losing to Neil in the final of the Sydney Metro doubles title in 1986. My partner was Todd Woodbridge (and I still couldn't win!).
Even with the correct birthday I'm the oldest player in the top 150, 250, even 350. I'm not sure if this makes me feels good, bad, strange, or just plain old.

Funny things a 4-year old says

Mum: Connor, if you come into the bedroom when I’m feeding Lucy and the door is closed again you’ll get a smack on the bottom.

Connor: (crying) Don’t give me a smack on the bottom! I’m only 4.

Mum: What do you have to do so you don’t get a smack on the bottom?

Connor: I have to hide so you can’t find me.

Connor: If a red car comes today it could be the Wiggles, Postman Pat or Aunty Teresa.

Mum: Who do you want it to be?

Connor: Aunty Teresa

Mum: What about the Wiggles?

Connor: They can come too if they like

Connor: I’ve got no jogs on.

Mum: Jogs?

Connor: Yeah, jogs. That’s what Aunty Madonna calls undies.

Connor: When I get bigger muscles than dad I’ll be able to lift this house up and put it in another place.

(Hopefully not into the nearby Pacific Ocean.)

Turning the Pages of Life

My 18th year was a good one. I won an Australian Junior Title and reached a world ranking of 390 after playing a few Open events. If someone said to me, 'Pat, enjoy it while it lasts because this is the best you'll ever do at tennis' I would have told them they were crazy. I was 17! Surely my best years were in front of me.
They weren't.
Fast forward twenty years and my writing career is going nicely. The Tuckshop Kid has picked up a CBCA Honour award, I've got three books coming out in 2008, more school visits than I can say yes to, The Line Formation about to be released in North America titled Out of His League, and somehow I'm being paid to act in front of a bunch of little kids after adapting Beeware to the stage.
Then the GFC hits and things change. Last year I had one book out, The Trophy Kid, 55 days of school visits (which isn't bad), and next year a return to teaching in some sort of capacity is looking increasingly likely. Does this worry me? A little. I'd be happy to never teach Year 9 English again.
But what will be will be. 
Just like an epic novel, life has many ups and downs. Not even Federer can stay number 1 forever. But 25 years after my 17th birthday I'm playing some decent tennis again. In fact, I'm pretty sure my 42-year-old self could beat my 17-year-old self and that's something I'm grateful for. (Although the standard is higher these days so I was still better comparatively back then.) I'm reasonably optimistic about the future of the book industry, too. Once the E-dust settles someone will figure out a way to make writing stories profitable again and things might be even better than they were in 2007.
In the meantime, I try to enjoy each day, especially the small successes. You never know, today might be as good as it gets!
But maybe not. In 25 years time, it might be better still.

Letting Go

Stress creeps up on you on the tennis court. The worst seems to be when you're playing against someone you think you should beat. At the Nambour Open I was seeded 7 and up against a talented youngster in the second round, Josh Banks. (No relation to Tristan, I think.) He got the jump on me early and thoughts of an early exit entered my head. 'Why am I here?' I yelled out. 'Why?'
Once you tighten up your co-ordination vanishes and you can miss any shot, no matter how easy, and I did. One simple smash I smacked hard into the court - trouble was it was the wrong court.
Down a set I accepted that I was going to lose, stopped caring so much about the outcome, and loosened up. Suddenly everything turned around. Without any more effort, in fact, with less effort, the ball started springing faster and more accurately off my Pacific X-treme Polyforce 16 L strings. (I remember when the only string around was cat gut.) Momentum swung my way and I won 6-2 in the 3rd set.
I wonder if it is like this with writing. With life. If we try too hard we'll never quite get into that 'zone'. But if we accept our fears and gently let them go our best will come naturally and easily.
What do you reckon?

Top 100

My current work in progress is a YA/Adult novel about a 28-year-old tennis player named Ace who makes a comeback to the pro tour, attempting to exorcise some demons in the process. He funds his comeback by coaching a talented but wayward 18-year-old named Taso. To sympathise with my MC I've made a comeback of sorts myself. Last year at 42 I decided to play Open tournaments for the first time in 10 years with a goal of making it to the top 100 male players in Australia. I wanted to feel the nervousness, doubt and fear of Ace by competing against players half my age. Almost a year into the journey, I've learnt much about tennis and myself. I've learnt that age is relative, the body is capable of more than we imagine, and that some days I still feel like a gumby even after playing tennis for more than 30 years. The novel, like the journey, seems to be going on and on. 80,000 words in with no end in sight. I think it's telling me I need one more year of playing, so that's what I've decided to do - blogging about my journey here. Besides, my goal hasn't been reached. I'm only ranked 136.