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From: The Racketeer 50, June 2003

Lethal Spin [14]

by Frank Raistrick

Praises sung
I regard it as a great honour to contribute to the publishing event of the decade - the 50th issue of The Racketeer, the envy of all tennis clubs. Surely a knighthood for its esteemed editor cannot be far off.

To mark the occasion I thought that I would place on record the debt that we owe to normally unsung heroes and heroines. The strength of a tennis club is usually judged by the quality of its match players, but to me the backbone is the people who do the work, grafting away without praise or reward.

In my time at Mapperley, I was lucky to collaborate with three true gentlemen, who put hours and hours of work in behind the scenes. Alec French was the secretary for most of my time there, being replaced by Michael Smith, while Richard Barraclough was the long-serving treasurer. It was my privilege to know them. Probably the hardest-working man there was Robert Pullman, who never seemed to stop repairing things and ensuring the smooth running of the club. Robert was not quite as polite as the other three - I recall his pithy remark at one working party when he surveyed the efforts of half-a-dozen of us: 'There's not one of you can knock a nail in a piece of wood!'

I go back a long way, and can remember Robert as a very fine player. I first visited Mapperley Park some fifty-two years ago in a Men's match as a callow youth, and remember the amazing power behind Bob's shots. I believe Jack Britton also played - he had the most accurate service I have ever faced, with the ability to hit the corners of the service court with no apparent change of action. Jack of course played a large part in the development of the club, I have long been a great admirer of his for his wise judgements on the League Committee, and for his brilliant chairmanship of the League AGM, always a difficult bunch to keep in order. His natural courtesy and charm hid an iron resolve, and a determination not to let the rebels take charge.

I can remember very little about the tennis on that first visit though, my main memory being of the match supper. It would not have disgraced a top hotel, and the standard hadn't varied when I joined Mapperley. This was due to the marvellous ladies who female-like attempted to top each other's efforts, I of course was not privy to the inner workings of the ladies' side, so I can't mention them all, but Catherine Corder, Christine Preston, Pippa Handley and Judy Small were leading lights.

I was bursting with ideas at the time that I was appointed chairman, and Judy in particular supported me to the hilt. Her very presence was a guarantee of efficiency and success, and we held great parties at the Corders' house. I very much wanted to improve Finals Day, but was heavily criticised when I suggested a barbecue, being told that people liked to dine at home on Sundays. Judy backed me though, and with enhancements such as scoreboards and a microphone to relay the scores back to the clubhouse, the play was much more interesting. I was very pleased when I heard that the play was videoed one year.

I cannot end without a mention of Shirley Darlaston. She positively lived for the tennis club and kept a close watch on all aspects. She nurtured the grass courts as if they were her own garden, and fought a never-ending battle to prevent the tennis balls disappearing. She is also one of the best players ever to represent the club, ultra-fit and with an ease of movement that I envied. Her back-hand down the line, wrong-foots everybody, and she's still a tenacious fighter.

P.S. If I have one abiding memory of my time at Mapperley Park, it would have to be Anita Murray's snow-clearing effort. Four of us men had a regular Sunday morning doubles in the winter, but one day we awoke to a foot of snow, and only turned up out of habit. To our amazement and gratitude, Anita, who lived next door to the club had risen early and swept one court clear for us. It was weird playing with snow banked up all round the white lines, but at least there were no disputed calls. With the usual capriciousness of English weather, a thaw set in during the morning, and poor Anita's unselfish sweated labour was wasted!

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