I didn't pick up a tennis racket until I was 12 and this came possibly from my Grandpa giving my sister the Bjorn Borg biography for Christmas one year. Amanda probably only read it once, I read it maybe 50 times as it gave me inspiration to play the game. There were no Ipods, Ipads, X Boxes or otherwise to take our minds off becoming 'superstars' in our chosen sports.
The hours I spent hitting against the garage wall was time in 'the Zone', a place that no one could bother me. I took a leaf out of Borg's book and gave myself a goal against the wall, after all I was never going to beat a brick wall. Borg used to tell himself that if he hit a certain amount of shots in a row then it was a point to him, I liked that method right from the start, consistency.
My house as a kid had a rather unique style of brick work and I spent hours chipping away at the wall from just above the chalked net line until it was completely smooth. The garage wall was perfectly manicured to hit tennis balls against after I had finished as I was also the 'Groundsman'.
I recall the 'devastation' of 'Borgie' retiring when my tennis was just beginning and being shattered as I was a kid who looked to his hero for guidance. I would ask many questions of Borgie as I hit the ball into submission against a wall that if could talk would have begged for mercy. I don't know if I ever received the answers that I was looking for but I kept asking them anyhow. After all I was on 'court' with 'Borgie' and that time to me was priceless.
In my young and silly mind there was only one thing to do, I had to, I mean I just HAD to become a Professional Tennis Player so I could grow my hair long like Bjorn and one day have him watch me play on television. It all made so much sense to a 12 year old kid but now I would have to do it all without the great man. He had simply hit too many tennis balls in his time against his garage wall, Connors, Mac and Vitas. His body and mind were tired.
It was ok, I understood, it was time though to find another hero, one who would answer my many questions against the wall in the garage. I needed one who looked and played just like 'Borgie' and they weren't easy to find.
Lucky for me a 17 year old kid by the name of Mats Wilander from Sweden had just made the Semi's of the Italian Open. Maybe he could fill the void that my retired hero had left and inspire me to become the tennis professional I had set out to be from day one on that garage wall.
Every kid needs a hero......
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