Mistletoe and Wine?

This time of year can be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster and I was feeling distinctly 'wobbly' the other morning when I took Toff to the vet for her MOT.

I was half expecting a reprimand for weight gain (the dog - not me!) but as it turned out she was deemed to be in excellent health with a 'wonderful' heart for her age. Ah now I know where she gets that from!

For a brief moment I was tempted to throw my arms round the vet in gratitude and give her a smacker on the cheek. On the basis that she had a needle in her hand (and looked about 15) , I decided against it - but it was a close thing.

This is a strange time of year - and for those who are apart from loved ones, or experiencing hard times, it can be a very sad period. Andre Agassi once described playing tennis as "the closest thing to solitary confinement" and Christmas can be like that for many people.

Of course Andre was referring to the times when things were going against him - something Amelie Mauresmo experienced so often in the French Open. In these circumstances, the tennis court can be a very lonely place.

In reality, life is not always as it appears to be and that certainly applies at Christmas.

Thank-you everyone who has sent me cards or gifts - each one is special and appreciated.
May 2010 bring you good fortune and happy times, on and off the court.

Colin

Chalk Flew Up .......

Last week, a certain talented footballer by the name of Thierry Henry decided to have a game of 'keepie uppie' whilst playing for France against Ireland. The only problem was he used his hands instead of his feet - which of course is cheating. Worse still, the goal that followed knocked the Irish out of the World Cup.

Now I don't know what the referee is doing this weekend, but I reckon he should be heading for his nearest Specsavers.

Where I come from, football referees are either brainless, or blind, but of course I am a Hearts supporter!

Now we all know what John McEnroe thinks of tennis umpires, although he has mellowed over the years. But even the most courteous and mild mannered tennis pros have had aberrations over line calls. Back in 2001, Andy Roddick had a total meltdown in the US Open and lost the final set against Lleyton Hewitt. More recently, Serena Williams lost the plot after being foot-faulted and, in Miami, Roger 'the Gentleman' Federer smashed his best racket into a thousand pieces.

The question is - what should you do if you've had a bad line call, or even worse a few them in a row. Well, first thing to remember is that umpires don't cheat, nor do the vast majority of players. So you've got to let it go very quickly - if you become heated or frustrated, or dwell on things, then you're playing into the hands of your opponent, and will lose the match.

So it's best just to focus on the next point, take a few deep breaths, and repeat to yourself "I am in control".

Man - you cannot be serious............

Repeat After Me..........

For those of you who don't know Edinburgh, a beautiful parkland lies to the south of the city centre called The Meadows.

I often walk up Middle Meadow Walk to the city, and just where various paths intersect, there is a Big Issue seller. Now you actually hear him about 100 metres away with his cry of "Can I interest you in the Big Issue". However, because he repeats this call at least twice a minute, to the uninformed it sounds more like "in stress you in big shoe" - so you might think he's some sort of footwear specialist.

In Dundee, in the 60's, I recall a dusky man in a grey raincoat and bonnet, who stood at the foot of Reform Street. Every few seconds he would shout "Telly Telly Graf". Now you might think he was announcing the arrival of Steffi on the tennis scene - but in fact he was selling the Dundee Evening Telegraph.

I once read that if you stood in front of a mirror and repeated "you are so handsome" over and over again then eventually you would look like George Clooney. Well it's not worked for me so far but I do believe in this theory.

Psychological research has shown that repetitive negative self talk is associated with losing. So in tennis, there is great value in repeating to yourself that you are a fine player, rather than constantly thinking "my backhand is rubbish". In simple terms don't think what you mustn't do or shouldn't do - think what you "could", "can" or "will" do!!

So for the guys out there, repeat after me...............

"I can serve like Federer!"

"I can hit forehands like Federer"

"I have a bank balance like Federer"

Ah now we're dreaming......................

Do you need a bag?

The other day, on opening the car boot outside the tennis centre, I was hit by a sudden gust of wind.

Such was the velocity, two extremely precious Marks & Spencer carrier bags took off and sped across the car park.

Now not too long ago, realising I would have to cough up 5p x 2, I would been off after them at high speed, leaping over cars or any other obstacle in the process. This time, however, I waved them good-bye, hoping they would find a good home somewhere down by Leith docks (that's where they were heading!)

On the tennis court, when one because less fleet of foot, there has to be an acceptance that you can't chase down balls as you did in your 20's

Have you ever watched skilled 'senior' players and wondered why they never do any running yet seem to get to every shot? Well here's the secret. Smart players move while the ball is on the other side of the net - they anticipate the return and get into position early.

As your mobility decreases, it is also essential that you shrink the court. This means playing more balls in mid court, hitting deep angles volleys, drop shots or anything else in your repertoire. But don't get stranded in 'no person's land' (very pc!) in doubles, leaving your partner scuttling around the baseline.

The one real problematic shot is the ball that lands at your feet. As a spotty teenager, you would let it bounce then charge after it to the back of the court. As elegant seniors, we don't want to do that - instead we should take the ball on the rise, as a short hop or half vollley.

The secret of this shot is to bend your knees and stay low throughtout the stroke (the sounds of the ball hitting the court followed by the racket contacting the ball should be almost simultaneous). This shot requires little effort - but a lot of practice!

So think variety, placement and accuracy - and save your feet for the late night dancin'!

Man or Woman

Have you been following the story about a certain Caster Semenya, the new women's world 800 metres champion. Such was the wide margin of her victory, those in 'authority' thought she must be a man.

Now I've been accused of many things in my time but never been mistaken for the opposite sex - though in a senior moment I did once stray into the ladies changing room in our local sports centre. The fact that several scantily glad young ladies ignored me totally did little for my ego!

Now whilst on the subject of gender dubiety, during a visit to New York last February, I was picked up by a 'female' taxi driver outside Grand Central Station. Looks wise, she could have been Charles Bronson's twin. Driving wise, she must have trained on Blackpool's dodgem cars. During the short journey down a packed 5th Avenue, our speed got up to 70 mph and we had numerous 'near misses' , including several innocent pedestrians trying to cross the road.

She was probably aged around 35 but looked 75, having spent her working life with a pulse rate around 130. But she was female, there was no doubt about that!

I am tempted at this point to bring my 'mother-in-law' into the equation but wont!

However, whilst still on dangerous ground, can I just mention the two top ladies tennis players in the world - Serena and Safina. Now there is no doubting their sexuality, but both are built like tanks and have muscles straight from the front page of Men's Health magazine.

The big difference is that they are both supreme athletes, in comparison with the jam doughnut days of the 60's and 70's..............

Before naming names, I will stop right here whilst I still have an exit!

Sounds of Silence

Well folks that's the big extravaganza over for another year - finishing on a superb mens final, which was the perfect advert for tennis.

In contrast, we had the ladies final no-one really wanted. With all due respect to their respective tennis abilities, having the same two sisters yet again slogging it out on the final Saturday is not compulsive viewing.

Then of course this year we had to contend with a further raising of the decibels - I would reckon that Victoria Azarenka creates a health and safety issue - for the crowd.

One has got to ask the question - how does Roger Federer play such magnificent tennis without shrieking every time he hits the ball. The answer of course is simple - it is unnecessary.

Having said there, there is an important place for correct breathing techniques on court - and experts recommend an exhalation as you make contact with the ball. But it should be relaxed, like a sigh, and start before and continue long past contact. A scream, or shriek, is tense and restrictive and just adds to your inner stress in tight situations.

In contrast, quiet deep breathing is a very useful tool, especially as a preparation to serving at vital points, or at change-overs between games.

So what other sounds will you remember form Wimbledon 2009. Well in my opinion, the 1977 Virginia is well past her 'use by' date - her voice irritates (or is it just me!). In contrast John Lloyd, Andrew Castle, Tracy Austin and Andy's mum are first class and have enhanced BBC's excellent coverage throughout the fortnight.

My final prediction for Wimbledon is that rain will never again fall on SW19 during July.

Shame about the roof.

Wombledon

Yes - its that time of year again.

Even though you cannot differentiate between a tennis racket and the backend of a shovel, Wimbledon will be the hot topic for the next two weeks (might even knock ministerial expenses off it's perch)

One dead certainty is that we wont see a drop of rain. That's because the Centre Court has a sliding roof to keep out the weather - sods law will dictate that we have a fortnight of unbroken sunshine.

The other 'certainty', according to the tabloids, is that a certain Andrew Murray will be holding the championship trophy aloft in a couple of weeks time.

Now if they were to move Wimbledon from SW19 to EH25 then Andy would walk it. (the media razzmatazz would never venture north of Hadrian's Wall)

Or - if AM was able to hide in his grandmother's loft between now and the final - with the odd appearance on court - then I'm sure he would be dancing with Serena (my tip for the ladies) at the Championship ball.

One final 'or' - this is a bit more technical - if he were to maintain a 1st service success rate of over 70 per cent, then I reckon he would be the champion.

However, my prediction is that an unseeded player will have a 'stormer' against him and exit Andy round 3 or 4. Just hope I'm proved wrong.

One thing certain, he will entertain - and that's what Wimbledon is all about.

Ouch......

Ok - you know the situation - you're watching the 9 o'clock news and you're warned - "some of you might find these pictures disturbing". What happens? You're compulsively glued to the screen, unable to divert your eyes as the horrors unfold.

Well the following scenario has bits that might make you squeamish - so look away now!

There is a modern shot in tennis often referred to as the SOS, or emergency forehand. Basically, you're trying to return an extremely wide ball on your forehand side. In days gone by, you would have resorted to a lob, giving you some recovery time.

These days, many of the pros change to a continental grip and hit downwards, like slicing a water melon. The advantage is your return will remain low over the net, often forcing your opponent to err on the volley. To make the shot, there is a need to stretch your hitting arm and legs to their limit (bit like Inspector Gadget). Kim Clijsters used to perform the splits - not something to try yourself without full medical insurance!

It is basically a squash shot - and Roger Federer for example is very good at it.

Now if you look at Roger's torso then compare it with mine - well enough said. (as an aside my favourite rally partner keeps a picture of Mrs Federer's semi-naked husband on her office desk!)

But a week past Saturday, whilst playing social doubles, I attempted to emulate Roger's SOS forehand and felt a twang in my upper arm. At this stage I should have done an Andy Murray i.e. screamed out and rolled around in agony (sorry Andy). But I played on like the hero I am, with stiff upper lip (and bendy lower arm).

Are you still reading - or have you fainted?

It was only when I got home and couldn't move my thumb that I declared - "Houston we have a problem"

Now I'm going to spare you many of the ensuing dramatic details - including inability to do lots of things, including scratching my bum (Nadal take note). But I have damage to the radial joint - with a bit of "itis" (with all due respect to Zorba, the Greeks are to blame for most things!) Consequently my tennis playing has come to a halt - and I'm frustrated and, being a man, often grumpy.

However, today I went to B...s the chemist to buy a support bandage, to allow me to start doing some things I'd stopped doing.

Thank-you B...ts assistant for being lovely and also taking the time to measure my wrist and put on the bandage. (I think I would've had to stand on my head , like Mr Bean, to do it myself).

I won't be attemping that shot again - but I will defintely go back to B....s!

Glasgow kiss

Ok you drivers out there. You will recognise this situation I'm sure.

You are patiently sitting in a long queue of traffic edging forward to a set of traffic lights. In the mirror you spot a car, generally long slung driven by a hairy youth sporting orange shades , screaming down your inside. On go the indicators and he forces his battered offside wing into the front of the queue.

Have you noticed that the same tactics are never employed in the check out line at Tescos.
If someone tried this on they would be politely told where to go - i.e. the end of the queue.

In certain parts of the UK, any abuse of territory is generally met with a punch on the nose - or a phenomenon which originated in the west of Scotland called a "Glasgow Kiss". Now you are probably aware that certain animal species employ head butting during courtship. In Glasgow "pittin the heid on someone" has no loving intentions. It's designed to rapidly put your lights out.

When I first trained as a tennis coach (in the days when Virginia wore frilly knickers), we told pupils to 'punch' their volleys. This is still effective with a slow ball at shoulder height - but in the modern game groundstrokes are hit with much more power and there's not enough time for the 'classic' volley.

It's better to use a 'block' rather than a punch, keeping a firm grip on the racket handle and squeezing it with your ring and small finger (keeping your elbow near to the body). In this way there is little movement of the racket head, but you're using the speed of the incoming ball to gain power.

So there we are folks - that's my little piece of advice for today.

Keep in line....... and don't follow through with your head when kissin' your better half good-bye!

Stage fright

A few weeks ago I was flying into New York (as one does these days!) when the captain announced that bad weather was ahead. For the next twenty minutes we suffered a concoction of jars, vibrations, shudders and bangs as we descended precariously over Manhattan island.

Now the majority on the flight were sticking to a 'dead cool' exterior - while the more honest were either squealing out in fear or clinging to their arm rests and silently praying we didn't end up in the Hudson river.

Now I would reckon the only 'unconcerned' people on the plane were the flight crew. They had experienced all this stuff before - it was all part of their normal working day.

Back to ground level.

Why is it that we can play great fluent tennis on a social Saturday afternoon - then when it comes to matchplay our feet are glued to the ground and nothing works for us. It's the stage fright syndrome - it's happened to us all

Well of course if you were like the Continental crew and doing it every day, then playing a match, no more how important, wouldn't put you up nor down (oops). You could then focus entirely on how to win rather than controlling your jangling nerves or fear of messing things up.

Now here's a little suggestion.

Every time you play a game, visualise being surrounded by a large crowd of spectators. Regard it as the most important game of your life, with millions at stake. Play vital set or match points in games that in reality don't matter a hoot.

It will get you used to the big stage - so that when matches come along you will have done it all before!

It really does work!

In The Zone

All our world leaders are gathered this weekend in Davos, Switzerland, to discuss our money, or what's left of it.

Quite why they choose Davos, which is Europe's highest town, cut off from humanity and up to the eyeballs in snow, well who knows.

As a quick aside, a very dear friend of mine is in 'love' with one of the greatest Swiss of all time, Roger Federer. With his looks, bank balance and tennis skills who can blame her. I must confess I don't have any deep feelings for Roger but I do have a great love for Switzerland and look for any excuse to go there.

So it was in the summer of 2001 when I flew into Zurich and boarded a train, destination Davos and St Moritz. Of course the trains in Switzerland are a joy - they pass through some of the most beautiful scenery in the world, along the side of mountains and through v shaped valleys - and always precisely on time!

Now hang on to this story because it starts to get exciting. As a result of a total aberattion, near to Davos I got off the train a stop too early. To my consternation, I found myself in a Swiss outpost, deep in a forest, with a few log cabins and not a sign of humanity. However, being a fully trained and experienced Boy Scout there was no panic - but instead I set off through the forest along the side of the narrow gauge railroad. At one point I had to cross a 400 m bridge suspended in the clouds, with only a handrail to stop me from tumbling into the deep ravine below.

It was all a bit scary and I was totally outwith my comfort zone - but it was a truly exhilarating experience and one I wont forget.

Now my point here is that, to get the greatest stimulation in life, it is very worthwhile to venture out of our self imposed comfort zones. It might be something simple - like changing your hair style (I'm still working on that one!)

On the tennis court we can become predictable, and therefore too easy to be read by our opponents. It is often a good idea to mix things up (Andy Murray is an excellent exponent) perhaps by varying your speed and direction or even slipping in a few 'trick' shots. Even though it doesn't come off, when it does it's a blast!! (had to fit that word in somewhere!)

A word of warning for you guys out there. I would go easy on hitting shots through your legs. You could end up in a hospital bed - or singing in the Luton girls' choir!

So here's my final thought for today folks. Ships are safe in harbour but that's not what they are designed for.

Go for it!