It's always frustrated me when I've seen other players able to smack balls over the bowler's head and stuff like that. I can't, though. When I've tried I've let myself down.
You know, I still love the innocent parts of the game. I love hitting tennis balls. I love seeing the young guys do well. I'll still have a lot of friends to watch. I'll miss the relationships probably the most. As time passes, I'll probably miss the tennis more.
I enjoy hitting tennis balls. I haven't lost any of the innocent parts of tennis. I just do it in front of less people.
Mum's home food was comfy, exquisite and she was also capable of the most wonderful gourmet food. She'd mix the rice and dal with stuff and roll these easy-to-pick-up extra-softened little balls of rice.
I probably have a club in my hands 360 days a year, one way or another, playing with friends or just fiddling around or hitting balls.
The more balls that I hit, it's going to get better and better. Once I get a bit more confidence in my ball striking, that's when we can get down to the nitty gritty parts of the game.
We had to adjust and threw a few more rise balls and curves but it worked.
Growing up, I loved looking at the photos in my mother's old Betty Crocker cookbook: the chocolate cakes, the cookie house, even the cheese balls and fondues.
Often in Spain you're winning 2-0, there are 15 minutes left, and it's as good as over. You control it, and the tempo drops. In England, that doesn't happen. They put another striker on, long balls into the area, free-kicks, corners. They push you back.
I had some great pitchers while in St. Louis. At first, they only 'pitched' the ball fifty feet. They had an allowance of six bases on balls, which was neutralized to some extent by four strikes. Later on, the 'throw' became a free-for-all, overhand, or any style the pitcher chose.
