BSF WINTER TENNIS LEAGUE by Colin Sharples - (30/11/2009)

The Clancy Brothers were very nasty; the Kray Twins set even worse records of violence; but worse by some way as dispensers of unbridled, unblinking intimidation are the Coton Sisters. Harper Green has seen more than one example of blood – spattered, skulduggery – indeed twice this season, Chorley ‘B’ have departed leaving a court strewn with human sewage but those were achieved with the club, the claymore, opponents bludgeoned to defeat. Last Friday was something different: Walmersley ‘A’ were the lucky team who were drawn that night to play a Wanderers team for whom the Cotons – Beth, 15 and Chloe, 12 provided the driving force that assailed their opponents. This was not however vulgar thuggishness, this was calculated skilleting, filleting with all the precision of the surgeon’s knife. The girls had ample support from Matthew Allanson, stylish shotmaker, good volleyer if at times a shade dispassionate, not always a deep desire in his play; and from John Abbot, again an easy talent, floated round the court, artistic shot production, lacks a touch more bite.

But the girls stood out. Beth has already established a reputation as a formidable opponent – hits smoothly but hard; easy, flowing service action; can sustain a rally for hours; she has more than a few famous name notches on her racket. This, however was Chloe’s League debut and an eye-blinkingly splendid one it was, leaving a profound impression on spectators and the opposition. Certainly she left her impression on Walmersley’s Paul Biggins. Biggins arrived at the Green at 6.50, blithe, bright and breezy; by 7.30, it was battered black and blue Biggins as he felt the full force of the Chloe forehand assault, direct hits on some parts of his body, other, more sensitive, parts spared only by some alarmingly quick reactions. Chloe - looking of course as if bullet wouldn’t melt in her mouth – has a fearsome flat- bat forehand, delivered with cocked wrist, shots low, deep, hard, from one baseline to another. Her backhand is little less effective. She is also adept – no mean feat in a 12 year-old – at picking up and driving the low, half-court ball. Both she and Beth hit with a smoothly explosive action. Beth volleys well, high or low, with good placement, whereas her sister is yet to indulge in much net play (some might hope she never does!) but while, like so many youngsters, she seemed initially not to be able to put a serve in court to save her life, by the half way point of the match she was serving very solidly.

Walmersley’s Biggins and Gail Blackburn resisted well after a poor start: on the first point, Mrs. Blackburn received an nice short lob, which with studied concentration she dumped in the net; more important was the time they needed to recover from the deep shock inflicted on them early on by Chloe and Allanson, the latter enjoying himself as the executioner, wielding the axe to finish his partner’s work. From then on Mrs. Blackburn won a well-deserved H.C. (Harpie Cross) for valour under acute pressure. Battered, blasted and bombarded at the net, she gave not an inch and returned thunderous drive after thunderous  drive with a no-retreat volley, as well as getting in a few blows of her own: slow ball, short ball finesses, all the while exchanging lengthy rallies with Beth’s metronome groundies. Biggins was perhaps even more courageous, in the wars as he was from all sides. His baseline resistance was quite desperately heroic, if eventually broken, whilst at the net he carved out several individually - created winning volleys, some off wood, some off the net, some off the strings as he bounced round the net like an Olympic gymnast.

Next up last Friday were Allsorts and Guild Hall ‘B’who produced some interestingly varied tennis. There were spells which saw a panoply of inventive shots – a sort of tennis volleyball; half-volley returns from between the feet of clunking smashes – none of these worked – and some close quarter volleying duels when airborne bodies flashed around the net like a souped-up Star- Trek.

Allsorts – and we – welcomed back Chris ‘Long-Lost’ Gamble, a changed character – at least he arrived on time – but his tennis, as ever, notable for the Gamble Flourish, a ninety percent talent, ten percent too idle to move,  return of the opposition ball. As usual he produced the unexpected winner but capped all that this week with what can already be voted the shot of this or any year: Tom Forrester’s fiercest, speed of light serve, Gamble leans (a little listlessly) to one side, flicks his backhand and the ball whistles back down the line past a Brian Boardman who didn’t even twitch. Young Forrester made a promising League debut: he lacks nothing in easy power, well-produced ground shots, big serve but is still a step short into some shots, footwork at a minimum.

Sunday in the Bubble began with a match between the ‘A’ teams of Lostock and Holcombe Brook. It couldn’t have been colder if they had played on some Arctic ice-flow. For all that,  the tennis was first-class throughout. Sue Lawson and the engaging Sophie Tucker gave Holcombe the edge, an edge increased by Steve Denner’s dauntless, no surrender defence and by Gary Hainsworth’s howitzer attack: high-class butchery, rarely a missed shot, volleys crisp, fierce, deep, performance marred only marginally by some over-im aginative attempts at drop shot. Lostock were indebted to John Nuttall’s hefty hitting and some welcome touch shots; to Sam Stuart’s sneaky short balls and his impressive baseline driving; but above all, perhaps, to Cath Wadsworth. There is an intriguing air of wide-eyed innocence about Ms. Wadsworth which can evoke fears for her safety in such ‘heavy’ company but she meets fire with fire when she can, with the damper when she can’t, is adept at turning the low, half-court ball into attack and ha s a brain which she usually engages to good effect. Where some flatter to deceive, Ms. Wadsworth does the reverse (which is…?).

There was much else in this match that could have been reported,  had your correspondent’s attention not been dizzyingly distracted by the myriad charms of the spectating Mrs. Stuart, by her engaging conversation but above all (and not just because of the cold) her brain-reeling, incendiary offer to “share my coat”. Even for an ageing man with a dicky ticker this was too much to ignore,  certainly enough to render the competing claims of the play of Denner and Hainsworth abject non-starters. Further distraction (was there room for more?!?) was provided by the arrival of the Cashmore Clan, Diane, Paul and, down-from-Uni’ Vicky, Ms. Cashmore sporting a much-admired pair of boots - which leaked. She was immediately embroiled in conversation with Mrs. Stuart who, without an apparent thought, presented her with an ample share of the Stuart coat. Such false hopes; such fickle women!

The next match was disrupted by the non-appearance of Ellesmere’s ladies, presumably the result of the weekend’s re-arranged matches and perhaps still to be found wandering the Bolton suburbs. Opponents, Holcombe Brook ‘D’ were naturally disappointed, most of all Debbie Dalley who, she claimed,

had targeted the match to ’practise my interceptions’. The mind boggles! Mrs. Dalley in mid-interception! And the thought occurs that perhaps the Ellesmere girls’ absence was not such a loss. The episode does offer a new strand to social etiquette – “Sorry, Mr. Clooney. Tonight, I simply must practise……” There was also disappointment in that the match was to mark the long-awaited return of Rob Sloss and his box of tennis tricks. This was partly the result of a quasi-medical decision to rest regulars Robin Yeung and James Wilson, each showing signs of an excess of competitiveness, highlighted in Yeung’s case when he made a ruthless, out 0f the blue smash and grab for the salt cellar during dinner. Both have been advised to spend some time in a darkened room.

Cheetahs versus Nomads also provided some high quality tennis. The aphorisms “You can’t keep an old one down, , and ‘Once you have it, you never lose it, ’ were especially apposite since Cheetahs were ably assisted by two faces from the past, Nigel ‘Harry’ Horsler and the lady who put the capital ‘M’ in motivation, Barbara Cain, doyen of the mixed league a few years (or more) ago. Horsler was in splendidly languid, slow-draw, slow-drawl form, winner after winner flowing from his racket. A passer-by at the time might have thought that the wildlife that exists around the Bubble was more excitable than usual; a peep inside would have confirmed that it was the evergreen Mrs. Cain emitting, as ever, a stream of squeaks, squawks, squweams and yelps as a means of self criticism and/or of energising her partner – who just happened to be her son, Chris. She played well: never any doubt who was boss as she put her tactical sharpness and astute shot selection to good use.

Naturally they had good support. Rachel Brannigan was, as usual, quick, athletic, sure of shot and loosing A fierce,  tee-off smack when under pressure, whileChris Cain did as he was told and revealed again and again a ‘Crack of Doom’ smash. Cheetahs didn’t have it easy. If Nomads’ Andy Westmoreland and Adey Moores were fractionally sub-par, their ladies certainly were not. Maria Fallon drove hard and deep, lobbed judiciously an d served well. Her only critic is herself. Sue Wright, Westmoreland’s tennis Sutton Hoo,  also did well. She’s youthful, agile, possessed of quicksilver reflexes which make her deadly round the net. Smashes and serves well, she’s a valuable addition to the League.

After such a high octane afternoon, it was fitting that the weekend should conclude on a giant-killing note when (for once) David Lloyd ‘D’ combined all their attributes at the same time to beat the dreaded Bellingham ‘A’. As with Nomads, Bellingham’s men were a little out of flunter, such that Nigel Hammond’s torpedo hitting sometimes missed and Mark Green, while chucking in the odd flowing backhand drive and hissing, swinging service, also had his off moments. Hammond’s partner, Laura Taylor doesn’t hit as hard as he but last Sunday was no less consistent And she did her share of damage at the net; while Ruth Hurst revealed a wide range of skilful control, ran down ball after ball, defended her backcourt with determination and served a few clunkers.

Hero for the winners was Keith Fenton, who for the umpteenth time gave us his Colonel Custer impression. If ever a man deserved the epithet ’bloodied but unbowed’ it is Fenton: no matter when, where or how Hammond ‘s attack assaulted him, the ball went back – maybe accompanied by a little bone or gristle but it went back. And he had his own points to make: forehand nags away, backhand holds its head much higher these days and his net play is effective. A more controlling influence on the state of the match was John Davy, who – apart from some hair-raisingly generous volleys off the near-baseline – played superbly. He commanded the centre court like an old style traffic cop, his tennis baton directing balls this way and that to maximise opposition discomfort. Fenton was helped by the always lurking (‘menacing’ better?) Angela Platt who hit many a telling interception volley and produced a classic Platt smash which broke both Bubble and resistance – a true Platt piledriver. And leading the side was Dr. Perry, another player who after some years of steady improvement has achieved a breakthrough into seriously-able territory. A heavy, probing forehand, an actual flat backhand, good serve and a rare talent for crabby net chords. What more could one ask? Well, perhaps the rally of the season, involving Green, Davy, Liz Perry and Ruth Hurst. This show-stopper of 40 strokes was an all - action, end –to- end, every shot (and a few more) extravaganza, a cross between the Royal Ballet’s finest and Coco the Clown and his Circus Tumblers.

I shall be away from to-morrow (Tuesday) until next Monday: any problems please mayday Vanessa on 693941.