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From: The Racketeer 38, August 2000

Lethal Spin [2]

by Frank Raistrick

Seaside frolics
My memories this time are of a really enjoyable day. The Junior section was strong in quality and quantity, and most importantly was extremely well behaved for once. As a reward, I decided to organise a bus trip to Skegness, and over fifty of us had a great day. It was remarkable in that we came back with two more people than we had when we went.

Football and cricket on the beach, swimming in a rather chilly sea, boating on the lake and roller skating, the last of which was one of the funniest sights I've ever seen. One of our star players, a smashing lad named Ed Davey had a go, and looked very much like Frank Spencer clinging to the back of that bus. Still he had the ever-smiling teenage Lisa to hang on to, so perhaps he wasn't that daft. Lisa is probably the only surviving member of that day, nearly a quarter of a century ago. Where are they all now?

My panic rose as rumours that Pete Gunton and Amanda Gregory had been seen walking in Mablethorpe abounded, but when it came to the nerve-wracking count we were two over. It turned out that our gang had met up with two members who were on holiday with their parents, and relations being somewhat strained, they decided to come back with us.

Steady Bunny
A story I like is from Bunny Austin's autobiography. Bunny who? I hear you ask - funny name! Fred Perry wasn't the only world-class player we had. We won the Davis Cup several times with Bunny and the much missed Dan Maskell. Jack will remember - he probably played against them.

Bunny came from a privileged background and his family owned their own grass court. From an early age, his father, a useful player himself, taught him to play, but one habit drove young Bunny wild. Whenever Bunny made an unforced error his father would chant, seemingly to himself, 'The primary aim of the game is to hit the ball over the net and into the opponent's court'. It was effective though, and his son became one of the most controlled players in the world.

Years later, his father dead for some time, he was playing at Forest Hills, New York, in the final of the Davis Cup, and early on he hit a short service into the net. He looked up at the blue sky and seemed to hear a ghostly voice: 'The primary aim of the game...'

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