Anyone for tennis. It was a game I used to play. After a day at secondary school I'd go down with friends to the tennis courts on Richmond. Near the swimming baths. Not far from the station. Down the road from Kew Gardens. 1p to get in.
Concrete and grass. Concrete was the best idea if you wanted to actually have some rallies. The ball bounced. Wooden rackets. Someone had a metal one. Like Jimmy Connors. Garth, Andreas, Philip, Ben. Someone I will not name and shame. It's all forgotten now. Who always cheated. Shouted out when the ball was clearly in . 'I do not believe it!' You have to get ahead. However you can.
I always felt it was a matter of getting your serve going. Some forward momentum. That dispiriting splat when the ball sank into the net. Double faults were the ultimate deflater. But once the ball powered over the net you had some forward momentum. You were onto something.
If they managed to get the ball back somehow you could meet their return a volley at the net. Punch it into the open court. Imagine you were Borg.Guillermo Vilas. Vitas Gerulaitis. Raul Ramirez
Tennis, the airbrushed American alternative duo, trade in nostalgia on their latest album Face Down In The Garden. The kind of MOR radio my parents listened to throughout the seventies. Captain & Tennille .'Love will Keep us Together'. That man was never a captain. Holidaying on yachts the beautiful people . Having perfect teeth !
I'm not sure why this kind of nostalgia is still so prevalent. But I can get down to Face Down In The Garden, It offers escape and escape is always tempting . We will always need escape. Under the crazy paving pavement. Lies the beach !
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