Over the last couple of years, I’ve been surprised by my level of commitment to squash. I’ve woken up at 6:30am on weekend mornings, cycled 40 minutes in freezing rain, battled hangovers and even shelved social plans just to get a game in. When I visited Atharva in Nijmegen last summer, we fit in two 7am sessions on a four-day trip. Raoul and I did the same when he was in Mumbai a few summers ago, both of us running on a handful of hours of sleep.
The surprising part of this is that I’m not that good. A majority of these excursions have ended in me losing. Quite often, badly. Yet, I can’t think of better places to start my day than on court. It’s a similar paradox to the one Nassib Taleb wrote about in Black Swan - the more I play, the less I realise I know and the more it makes me want to play.
From mobility to strength to stamina, squash is the ultimate test of your physical conditioning. Yet, its beauty is that fitness isn’t a prerequisite for being good. It’s a lesson I learnt through games with my father.
At a time when I was in the gym five days a week, foam-rolling and endurance training, this man whose exercise routine was restricted to hitting 10,000 steps a day would eviscerate me on court. It drove me crazy. I’d be smashing my racket on the wall, screaming in frustration, cussing myself out during our games.
I was among the better-players in the group of fellow-amateurs I played with during college and I could feel him smirking on call when I talked up my game. He did his talking on court when I’d go back home during breaks and well, he talked a lot.
During Covid, he was my only sparring partner and gradually I began to feel like I was at least playing the same sport as him. The whitewashes began to be blemished by consolation victories and occasionally even beatings.
I thought my game had improved only to later realise that it was my understanding of my dad’s game that had improved. Play long enough with a partner and you subconsciously start to preempt their movements, when they play drop-shots and what serves they struggle with. It’s a comfort zone you don’t realise you’ve built until you play someone else.
It is why playing my coworker Matt - my first opponent since Dad - felt like a rude awakening. It was my first game in more than a year and I put the heavy loss down to a lack of rhythm. But, my ego was bruised enough to get me back on court.
I began attending a weekly Squash Night at the Swiss Cottage Leisure Center, making sure to keep my Thursday evenings free for it. From university students to men in their sixties, the group that showed up was eclectic. The throughline was that they were all better than me.
I discovered a new emotion on court during these Squash Nights. Shame. Not being able to provide sufficient competition to your opponent in an individual sport can make you wish for the earth below you to open up. And yet, I kept going back. It was the drive to get better and the high of noticing you are.
The community aspect to these Squash Nights played a role too, and I enjoyed watching as much as I did playing. Those Thursdays gave me a renewed appreciation for the sport and more importantly, a backhand. I’ll always be grateful to that one elderly Asian gentleman who patiently did backhand drills with me after our game.
In the second half of last year, I had a chance encounter with an acquaintance at a pub after a squash session with Raoul. He saw the racket slung over my shoulders and DMd me later that evening to setup a game. Gaurav and I played a few days later and from thereon we’d pencil in a weekly session without fail. A friendship centred around the sport was born and a rhythm to my game was found.
Nearly a year after our first encounter on court, Matt and I setup a rematch. I half-joked about it being my chance at retribution. But, no chance. I was better than last time but that was a low bar.
The more I lost, the harder I tried and the greater my passion for the game grew. Its role in my life has progressed from a passing hobby to a craft I can immerse myself in. When I was back in India last month, I took a lesson with a coach to workshop my game. I bought my first pair of squash shoes and even upgraded my racket.
I was back on court within a couple of days of returning to London. Gaurav had got a job offer in the Netherlands, so we setup a farewell squash session. Of the four games we played, I won just one. But, I had noticed that I drew considerably more power in my shots after positioning my foot to the sidewall. It was a technical tweak I had learnt from the coach in India. Just that bit of minor improvement to my game is enough to have me rushing back to court to play again.
Consumption Corner:
What I’m reading: I’ve recently become part of a Bookclub my friend John has started and speed-read Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead last week in time for Saturday’s session. I enjoyed talking about why I disliked the book.
What I’m listening to: At a time where we are all intermittent fasting, taking creatine and taking up yoga, this episode from The Real Science of Sport podcast feels quite pertinent.
What I’m watching: I watched A Real Pain in the theatre last week and loved it. Kieran Culkin will (fairly) steal the plaudits for his performance here but I felt the poignancy of Jesse Eisenberg’s character drives the film.
After reading your post was remembering all the squash sessions I have had with Arun followed by Tea with Roli. Some of my best weekends as far as I can remember. When you are in Bangalore next, lets play :-).