Rich People’s Problems: Is sports coaching worth the money?
I’ve never been particularly good at sport. As a practising dyspraxic, my hand, eye and ball co-ordination are appalling. At school, I ate too many crisps to be gifted at cross-country running and was too blind, once my glasses were off, to know where a rugby ball was — let alone wanting to pick it up and run into a bunch of boys whose only interest was to cause me an injury.
Now I’m a bit older, is it worth spending the money on coaching and kit to catch up?
At times I’ve dabbled in sporting activities. In my thirties I gymed a lot. Mostly because the place I worked encouraged it by having its own gym. Who would turn down a freebie? Especially if you can play loud banging dance tracks while being paid.
At one stage I even managed to gain a two-pack. That’s long gone, as has any residual fitness. I played a bit of tennis too. However, by the time I became chair of our local tennis club nearly five years ago, my involvement in the sport had dwindled to watching Wimbledon and an annual game. With 16 grass courts, eight hard, two of which are covered throughout the winter, it seemed a waste not to make more use of them.
If you plan a serious return to a sport, that means you not only have to consider taking lessons but refresh all your kit. I’ve always subscribed to the “all of the gear, no idea” school of purchasing. In the 1990s, when I’d last bought all my tennis gear, Stefan Edberg used a Wilson Pro-Staff. So that’s what I bought. Using the racket 20 years later, I received similar looks to the time I turned up at a golf course using my grandfather’s 1974 brass Ping golf bats. I’d been shamed.
Contemplating how to restock my tennis arsenal, I reasoned that if Head rackets were good enough for Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic, of course that’s what I had to have. A decent one costs about £180. I bought two — in case of emergencies. Then you need shoes suitable for hard courts. And they’ll be different from those for grass. Budget on around £100 a pair.
If you play tennis at a club that cares about these things, you’ll need whites or at least “recognised tennis clothing”. Goodbye to another £100 for a couple of “dry” shirts. If you wear a regular polo shirt, it’ll sap all the sweat and cause chafing. No one needs chafing. And if you wear a T-shirt people will wonder where your collar is.
Then you’ll need shorts and tennis socks too. And a bag to put all your stuff in. A racket cover is all very well but you need to look like you know what you’re doing, and a proper bag will set you back around £70. Don’t forget that a bag that’s a different brand from your racket is a bit of a no — unless it’s club-branded. And we don’t do those . . . yet.
You may need quite a lot of balls too. I like the Slazenger Wimbledon ones. They smell the nicest. £16.60 for three tubes of four. Blimey this is getting expensive.
That’s not forgetting you’ll want to be a member of a club. For ours it’s just £900 a year to access all the activities — lawn tennis, swimming, squash, croquet, walking football, a gym, fitness classes and a tasty discount at the bar. If you just want tennis it’s £660. But thanks to my parents stumping up back in the 1990s, probably to assist with some cash crunch or other, I’m a life member. So there’s even less excuse not to take part.
That all adds up to a decent cash commitment — even before you’ve considered any coaching.
When I first picked up my new racket in my role as chair, to play in a “fun” tournament a few years ago, it wasn’t much fun at all. It’s amazing how your doubles partner can etch holes in the back of your head when you plop another volley into the net. I wasn’t in much of a fit state to haul my ageing carcass around the court either. It soon told me enough was enough by straining some leg muscles. Time for a visit to the physio, at £40 a throw unless you’re insured. That led to a defatting exercise, or £30 a week to see the nutritionist, who tuts at every pound that returns to the frame.
But three stone lighter, perhaps with one more to go, it has definitely been worth the money. And that’s the thing. You’ve got to see any expense on sporting and health-related activities as an investment — in you.
Like most subscriptions, it doesn’t sound like a lot. An hour of private tennis coaching at £39 for at least 40 weeks of the year seems reasonable. But then you realise you’ve sapped over £1,500 for a year of lessons.
What’s the point? No matter how hard I try or however many lessons I have, I’m never going to be the next Carlos Alcaraz. And this isn’t a quick fix. I need to erase terrible habits, learn that every shot requires a grip change and that tennis is as much a mind game as it is a physical one.
Stick at it and after a year or two your game will improve, as mine has. Coach Pete has worked wonders. So could I apply this approach to other sporting activities?
I have yet to go through the Kenopause — the phenomenon explored in the new Barbie movie in which every Ken goes through a phase where they suddenly take up golf. There’s an enormous amount of money and frustration to be thrown in that direction. It’s one money pit I’ve so far managed to avoid. But I do like skiing.
There’s a big difference, however, between tennis coaching and skiing tuition. For alpine pursuits, private lessons for people of my age are simply there to stop you getting worse. Or in my case, erasing the 1990s “swoosh-swoosh” in favour of a 2020s “tilt and carve”.
As for all the expenditure, is it worth it? Yes. If you play better tennis or ski a little faster than you might have done, you’ll feel better in yourself. And it’s all downhill from here, so you might as well enjoy the ride.
James Max is chair of the Frinton-on-Sea Lawn Tennis Club fosltc.com, a broadcaster on TV and radio and a property expert. The views expressed are personal. X (Twitter), Instagram & Threads @thejamesmax
This story originally appeared on: Financial Times - Author:James Max
