Na daardie wedstryd kom die vreugde:
Jy het daardie wonderlike gevoel van
innerlike equilibrium: jou asem is
terug, maar jou longe is skoon – diep skoon. Die sweet hou op loop, maar jou
vel voel fris. Jou spiere ontspan, diep bly om weer hulle ou self te wees. Jou
gemoed kom tot bedaring – die konsentrasie is verby. Dit is nou net pure,
suiwer rus, die warm stort as bonus en dan die pak van jou tas, lekker gespeel,
die slinger van jou pakgoed oor jou skouer en al geselsende met jou maat in die
goeie laatmiddag-skoonheid, die saamstap na jou ryding en daardie sielsalige
rit huis toe.
Jy weet dit is alles tempeltyd. Jy
is bonatuurlik geseënd. Die hele wêreld lyk weer in orde. Jy is selfs nou lus
om te gaan sit en werk, om die sleurwerk van vanoggend weer aan te pak. Die
kleinlike kollega het klein in jou gemoed geword, die suur skinderbek in die buurt skoon uit jou gedagtes. Die sukkelende motor sal jou
darem nog huis toe neem. Tuis wag jou
eie mense, ‘n lekker drink-dingetjie en net goedheid. Paradys-tyd.
Wat is lekkerder as daardie
na-wedstryd gevoel? Die daarna: dit wat volg op die intensiteit van die
“daarvoor” – die inspanning en sweet en stryd.
En as jy dan terugkyk, weet jy die hardheid
van die wedstryd was ook goed gewees. Hard brei dit ‘n mens. Maar pyn kan jy
vat. Pyn, weet jy ook, is selfs goed. Dit laat groei, dit kan sterk maak.
Daarom gaan jy oormôre weer:
addiksie, verslawing, toewyding in die boeiende interaksie tussen pyn en vrede,
inspanning en gemoedsrus, vredestyd en struggle. Die adrenalien, die Ingryping,
die Gawe dryf jou, het jou aangeraak.
Spiritualiteit doen dit ook: reiniging: dit kom nie verniet en maklik nie.
Verligting: die oomblik van insig, van groei, van vrede. En uiteindelik die
aanskouing: die herkenning van egte Lewe, die vrede wat hierdie keer alle
verstand te bowe gaan. Saam-saam maak hierdie drie die pelgrimstog uit in ‘n
nimmereindigende proses van herhaling en groei.
En hier is die skrifwoord:
Hebreërs 12:11:
Wanneer ons getug word, lyk die tug
op daardie oomblik nie na iets om oor bly te wees nie, maar om oor te huil.
Later lewer dit egter vir dié wat daardeur gevorm is, 'n goeie vrug: vrede
omdat hulle gehoorsaam is aan die wil van God.
Muurbalspelers
sal verstaan. Die “daarna” wat die “vantevore” heilig.
En hier, as 'n ekstra, 'n muurbal-verhaal:
James Willstrop, the world's best squash player, is rarely
noticed away from the glass courts of his brutal trade. He might be one of the
most intriguing and driven competitors in British sport but the diffident
disciple of Oscar Wilde mocks his enduring anonymity with a wry story.
"I enjoy being alone," Willstrop says quietly as
he begins an anecdote which bears the deft touch of the writer he has become
while rising to his current position as the world No1. "So it was amusing
when I got a taste of fame. I went to see One Man & Two Guvnors at the
Theatre Royal Haymarket and ended up imagining myself as Andy Murray."
Willstrop laughs on a beautiful afternoon in Nuremberg,
where he is in the midst of leading England to their annual title as European
champions alongside Nick Matthew, the world No2 and his contrasting nemesis and
fellow Yorkshireman. The gripping struggle between Willstrop and Matthew should
be one of the stories of the Olympic Games this summer – except for the fact
that their sport continues to be ignored by the IOC.
Squash is played in 150 countries around the world and it
conveys the accessibility and purity of sport in graphic terms. Yet the IOC has
either blocked the claims of squash or insisted golf and rugby sevens are more
attuned to its Olympic ideals. It's little wonder that Willstrop is happier
talking about his most recent visit to the theatre.
"I was on my own in London as Vanessa [Atkinson, the
former world No1 squash player who is his girlfriend] was away. As there was no
reason to rush home to Leeds, I went to the theatre. I made the mistake of
buying a front-row seat and got picked out for some audience participation – my
worst nightmare. But, even though I'm shy, I'm a bit of a showman deep inside.
So up I went on stage, as one of Britain's few world No1s, and no one had a
clue.
"If they'd asked me what I did I might've lied. I
think it would have spun them out if I said I played squash for a living and,
actually, I'm ranked one in the world. I preferred the fact that I was treading
the boards where Wilde's first comedy [A Woman Of No Importance] was staged.
"I got through 10 minutes of mickey-taking with Owain
Arthur – who was brilliant in the lead role – and at the interval I needed a
drink. Suddenly, people were staring and pointing at me. Andy Murray must feel
like that whenever he goes out. Life would be much more difficult if I had to
deal with that constant scrutiny."
Willstrop, who offers engaging company, can be solitary
and contradictory. But he brings a fierce insight and literary edge to his
draining world. His first book, Shot And A Ghost, is one of the sporting reads
of the year, a deeply personal and poignant account of life on tour and the
grief he still feels after the death of his mother when he was 16. The book's
publication has coincided with his surge to world No1.
"Writing it has made me a better player," he
says. "It's helped me put down some painful thoughts and, as I was
reaching the culmination, I began winning one big event after another. The
first tournament was in Hong Kong when I was in the final stages of writing and
redrafting. I remember winning matches and, straightaway, heading off to a cafe
to write."
Willstrop concentrates hard as he tries to voice the
emotions that took hold of him, last December, when he became world No1.
"It was in Delhi and the actual night was magical," he murmurs.
"You sit there and wonder why it feels so good. All you can say is
'unbelievable …' It came at the end of a particularly brutal match against
Grégory Gaultier.
"The first game lasted 57 minutes – and I lost it.
But I felt strong. The second game was also tight but I edged it. I ran away
from him in the third and in the fourth he retired with severe cramp when I was
4-1 up. It was a tremendous mental effort.
"I went to the floor. Remember how Mo Farah went down
on the track after he won? I was like that. The achievement in itself is
monumental – to be the best in the world. But I was more overwhelmed by the
time we had invested over so many years. It took so long to reach that point,
from so many people who made it happen."
The man who had done most to drive Willstrop was also in
Delhi. Malcolm Willstrop, James's father and maverick coach, has been
intimately involved in this slow rise from the courts of Pontefract to the
pinnacle of squash. "Dad's the Brian Clough of squash," Willstrop
shrugs. "He's brilliant but an extremely different character. That
eccentricity makes him special."
It also makes him difficult and, after their emotional
night in Delhi with Vanessa and James's half-brother, David, a coach on the
British team, Malcolm Willstrop has withdrawn from his son. "It's not been
easy," Willstrop says. "India knocked the hell out of him. He had
visa troubles and as soon as we got back he fell ill with an infection. It was
such a big achievement it's almost been too much for him to absorb. He's needed
some time alone because it's been heavy. The intensity took so much out of him
– because you work your whole life towards this goal and, when it happens, you
have to realign yourself.
"We had a couple of issues after I became world No1
when he went into his shell. It was his way of saying, 'I need to get over this
…' All through January we didn't say much to each other. I felt it was best to
leave him to deal with whatever he's dealing with. It's resolved itself but
he's so different we'll always have these issues. I'm not the easiest person in
the world either. He has to deal with my doubts and intensities. I just hope we
see him at the British Open."
Next Monday, at London's O2, on the edge of the Olympic
heartland, the British Open will showcase the absorbing rivalry between
Willstrop and Matthew – as well as Ramy Ashour, Egypt's feted young magician of
the court. It will also ask the perplexing question as to why the IOC shuns
squash – especially in this London Olympic year when Britain supplies the
world's two best players. "Our worst disappointment came in 2005,"
Willstrop says, "when we came so close to being included in London 2012.
They had removed two sports but chose not to vote in any replacements. So I
wasn't surprised when, voting for 2016, they went for golf and rugby sevens.
Golfers have huge fame and wealth and that drew the IOC – which also decided
rugby sevens would fill some arenas."
As the sport strives to be included in 2020, Willstrop
extols the virtues of squash. "It's tailor-made for the Olympics. Squash
has so many dimensions – speed, endurance, flexibility, agility, skill and
psychology. It's accessible and inclusive. I wish they'd see us in a stark
setting like this, in Nuremberg, where small countries get a chance. I'm not
really a team-man but I love this competition because some years we've had
amateurs from the Isle of Man or Estonia next to the world No1.
"Squash is played all over the world and yet 90 men
sit in a hall and vote us out. I don't know what more the IOC wants from us
because we've got as many Olympic attributes as any other sport. I don't think
the world's top golfers will care about the Olympics and, let's face it,
there's an inaccessibility about golf. They didn't let women on to some courses
until recently."
Willstrop smiles thinly, but his incomprehension and hurt
is plain. "It would've been incredible to be part of London 2012. You're
seeing all the publicity Olympic sportsmen and women are getting and it reminds
you how close we came. It would be wonderful to bask in that recognition. But
we'll just be watching TV at home this summer. I love the fact that low-profile
but incredible people, like Sarah Stevenson in taekwondo, are on this great
stage. I just wish we could also be there."
Later, at lunch, we are joined by his friend, Jenny
Duncalf. After five minutes of amiable chit-chat I ask her what she is doing in
Nuremberg. Willstrop laughs gently. "Jenny's No2 in the world," he
explains. My embarrassed apologies are handled graciously by Duncalf. "I don't
expect you to know me," she smiles.
Yet she and her contemporaries in world squash should not
be so cruelly anonymous. An Olympic final between Willstrop and Matthew, after
all, would provide sporting drama at its most compelling. "It would have
been incredible," Willstrop sighs. "People love animosity and
there've been difficulties between me and Nick. Things have been said and we're
very different. We don't have much to do with each other outside squash and
people are captivated. But he's a great player and our rivalry is really
interesting.
"Nick was No1 for a long time and then, in January, I
took over. He beat me in February and got it back and then, in March, I was
determined at this big tournament in Richmond [Virginia]. I had a blinder and
beat Ramy 3-0 in the final. It was one of my most accomplished performances and
all the sweeter because I'm No1 again."
Does Matthew himself believe Willstrop is the world's best
player? "Probably not. At 31, he's at his peak. I'm 28 and getting better
all the time but his game has stifled me at times. Nick has had it over me
quite substantially. He's won our last 16 or 17 matches. That's a lot and he's
30-odd to 15 ahead. He's been on this run against me because, for two years, he
was the best in the world. But I'm now No1."
Does his losing-streak carry some psychological baggage?
"I really don't think so," Willstrop says. "None of them have
been devastating losses and he was beating everyone else as well. I look at my
defeats sensibly and realise I've played very well against Nick. I'm ready to
beat him again."
Willstrop leans forward and, speaking in a way that would
not be matched by an Olympic golfer or rugby sevens player, reflects on the
bruising artistry of his sport. "I like to win but I remember a heavy two-hour
match Nick and I played at Canary Wharf in 2010. It was amazing squash and I
was more proud than disappointed. Nick and I shared something that is still
talked about today. I love it when people come up and say how our match
affected them. I appreciate art; and sport, like in that match, is a form of
art. That artistry inspires and involves people. It would have made a perfect
fit for the Olympics this year."
A Shot and a Ghost: A year in the brutal world of
professional squash is available from www.willstrop.co.uk, £9.99
