uncoachable, or just marinading?

Believe it or not, before every match I play with Big Bear, there’s a plan.

There’s actually a shared notes page.

In fact, for most padel-related activities, there is an agenda. Usually accompanied by a very specific itinerary.

In almost all circumstances, these plans are disregarded almost as soon as the first ball is hit.

How is that possible?

You highlight one very simple thing. All you have to do is follow your own very simple instruction.

But it never quite seems to work like that for me.

When I started playing padel, I played a lot.

Like, a lot a lot.

Every day, for months.

Because I’d played tennis, I very arrogantly thought I was just naturally gifted and coaching was barely a consideration.

After almost every match, someone would ask, “How long have you been playing tennis?”

How did they know?

I was never entirely sure whether it was a compliment or an insult.

But at some point, I decided I was going to become a padel player. Not a tennis player standing on a padel court.

Only then did it occur to me that coaching might potentially have some merit.

I finished my tennis winter league commitments and had a very emotional break-up with my tennis coach. I’d found such value in tennis coaching that it’s actually quite alarming I didn’t automatically transfer that thinking to padel.

I think I just thought padel was easy.

Because anyone can do it, I suppose.

To a point.

Tennis requires you to learn things before you can really play. The serve alone takes a good amount of practice. Padel lets you join in almost immediately, which gives you the dangerous impression that you know what you’re doing.

Anyway, off I went to some coaching.

Beginner coached matchplay.

I’m out of my depth here. Big time.

There are a lot of Spanish words being thrown around by an extremely energetic Italian man. I’m being shouted at a lot.

I need to move.

My partner runs to the net.

I’m supposed to go too?

Hey?

What?

Oh, we’ve been lobbed.

All the way back?

What, both of us?

I’m fucking knackered.

But still, the instructions keep coming.

“Follow him, Katrinaaaaaaa.”

“Your ball, Katrinaaaaaaa.”

Aaaaaggggghhhhh.

This Italian guy is a sadist.

Don’t get me wrong, I love how he says my name. It gives me an immense amount of joy.

But he doesn’t stop.

He’s clearly a very fit individual, fuelled secretly by Haribo and a never-say-die spirit. If you want to get a ball past this guy, my God does he make you earn it.

I’ve tried negotiating with him. I’ve promised him my firstborn.

But he’s only interested in blood, sweat and tears.

The Milanese Menace.

Coaching must be so frustrating. Asking someone over and over again to execute one simple task, only for them to repeatedly ignore you or do it wrong - and somehow having to remain positive and motivational throughout.

Yet somehow, Davide manages it.

I couldn’t tell you how many times he’s politely suggested that I consider hitting the ball less hard.

Each and every time, I think I actually end up hitting it harder.

I don’t even know why.

Now, the little padel tart that I am, I’ve played at different clubs and been to sessions with different coaches.

It turns out the Menace is the one who suits me best.

There’s no bullshit, and I respect that.

In fact, I need it.

He genuinely wants you to get it. He’s constantly pivoting and adjusting to make sure you get value from every session.

Even if that means you’re quite literally begging for a water break at times. Joking. Kinda. 

My first private lesson was something he referred to as Glass Immersion.

Sounds painful, right? Like an officially recognised (and potentially illegal) method of interrogation.

The glass was a big problem for me.

Huge, actually.

There’s no bloody glass in tennis.

See ball. Hit ball.

Why on earth would I wait?

As if you think I have the patience to stand there, watch a ball go past me, wait for it to come back and then play a shot.

I’ve panicked about four times in the space of that happening.

I’m operating from a place of adrenaline, not calm.

As it turns out, the glass is pretty important in padel.

We had an hour.

A full hour.

Sixty minutes of balls coming at me, over and over again.

And then slowly, oh so slowly, I actually started to get it.

The next game I played, let me tell you, it made all the difference.

There’s no panic.

I’ve got time.

I’m relaxed.

Borderline chill.

I’ve got this. I’m just going to wait, be patient and send the ball back.

Easy.

Good coaching makes all the difference. Don't convince yourself you need a new racket, spend the money on good coaching instead.

But there’s also a lot to be learned from other players.

Big Bear, the massive nerd that he is, is like a super-server. The hours he’s put into helping me improve mine - because, let’s be honest, it was abysmal.

I got away with it for a while. But once I started playing at a higher level, it got attacked.

Big time.

And suddenly, I was immediately under pressure.

Now, I’m what you might call a marinader.

I don’t always get things right away. Sometimes it is painful trying to coach me, and I’m sure anyone who has tried has gone away thinking I’m beyond help.

Usually, though, it sits with me.

Slowly, it sinks in. The patience of the man is beyond impressive

Once it has marinaded, if you will, I’ve processed it. I can see the value in it. I understand it and I know how to execute it.

Then I come back and I can do it.

Not always consistently, obviously.

But there is always progress. I cannot tell you how good it is to get a sexy serve past someone who doesn't expect it.

My smug levels are off the charts, but really full credit to Big Bear.

And the more your coach gets to know you, the better it gets.

In my last lesson, Davide gave me a 30–60–90 drill.

I could only hit the first ball at 30% power. The next had to be 60%. The final ball could be 90%.

But if I started too hard, say, at 50%, I still had to increase the next shot by another 30%.

Funnily enough, that isn’t particularly sustainable.

Eventually, I have no choice but to rein it in.

And when I do, I can see the value of it.

Sometimes 30% is enough.

Sometimes I need to play it safer.

Sometimes 60% is perfect, if I can control it and place it.

And usually, 90%?

Well, that’s just sheer lunacy.

Still won't stop me trying though x