Ideas about how to spend the £6m investment in tennis after Andy Murray's Wimbledon victory

How can the tennis community inspire more people to take up the game?

Work with Local Authorities to create opportunities for more people to participate

Build practice walls in highly populated urban areas and more tennis courts in parks and public places.

Maximise the opportunities that already exist eg use badminton courts as mini tennis courts for adults and kids.

Encourage Parents to be aspirational with youngsters because in dreaming, we discover.

Instil in Coaches and Clubs a sense of responsibility towards the communities within which they operate 

Offer your services for free once a month. Visit a local primary school, run a Facebook competition with your members for a free one to one lesson or offer your courts to a community group to run their own session. You will reap what you sow.

As well as this, the tennis community need to invest in their workforce - the coaches - to develop a team of people that are not only capable of nurturing and inspiring the next generation of tennis players but also capable of promoting tennis as a game for everyone and work effectively to eradicate the elitism that exists around the sport. 

Always play in the rain if the players are willing...

Inspire PLAYers to look at tennis as a game for life

Promote practice, YouTube searches, watching tournaments, taking part in tournaments. Gather groups of children together to train because although tennis is an individual sport, children learn best when in an environment with other children. Foster in them a desire to ask questions of their peers, their parents and coaches. Make sure they have fun. But most of all...

PLAY the game!

You never know when this - 

can turn into this:

Let's have a ball in 2013!

The Dawn of a New Era

When I first started writing this blog over a year ago, I never imagined that my last night in Melbourne would be spent at the Rod Laver Arena watching Andy Murray in the final of the Australian Open from a vantage point only a few seats away from Andy's player box. Dreams really do come true.

The story started at the semi - final in what was one of the most compelling games of tennis I have ever seen. My brother and his wife had a pair of tickets for the match but as they had a six week old son who was still breastfeeding, I was enlisted to play pass the baby in between sets. I watched from the screens outside the arena hoping that inside, no one was about to spit the dummy. I did get inside for the out of this world second set and the whirlwind fifth set where a frazzled Federer lay down at the hands of the Murray machine.

The night of the final was going to be my last night in Melbourne for quite some time. If there was ever a moment to try and achieve the impossible, the time was now. Chance favours the prepared mind, so they say, and in response to a tentative email, I was thrown a gauntlet of a challenge at 2 am after the semi that I had to accomplish by 9am the next day. If I could find Judy Murray a kilt for a 6"2, 32-34 inch male for the following afternoon (a whole other story), a golden ticket for the final would be my reward. I succeeded in my mission and Agent Gordon was duly rewarded by Mrs M.

Finals day loomed and with it the hopes and fears of a nation. Or at least that's what it felt like on entering Melbourne Park's Centre Court where the air was thick with Scottish accents. Had these ex pats bought tickets in advance with the expectation that Andy would be in the final? Or were they, like me, subscribers to the "where there's a will, there's a way" philosophy?

The crowd was a sea of saltires and blues and whites, of Jimmy hats and union jacks. It did seem that the tennis universe was with Andy that night and the shouts and cries from the crowd throughout the match served to confirm that.

It's difficult to explain what it felt like to be there. I was overwhelmed not only by the occasion but also by how lucky I was to be seated where I was. It was by far the best seat I have ever had at a match, not only to watch the tennis but also to observe at first hand the interaction between a player and his box, to experience the ebb and flow of the match through their eyes.

The overriding emotion I felt was tension. It seemed to me, as it often does with Andy's matches, that there was more than tennis at stake. Both Andy and Novak seemed on edge. Theirs is being hailed as the new rivalry in Men's tennis and it seemed at first that they were both feeling the weight of this new burden of expectation.

The first set tie break was a master class in tennis from Andy. He got every first serve in where Novak didn't get one. For those who like statistics, this seemed to suggest that Andy was the mentally stronger of the two although you can never take anything for granted with Djokovic.

And so it proved to be the case with Nole producing displays of defensiveness that belied belief. I have heard commentators say on many occasions that the best players in the world are often the best defenders and here were two of the best defenders in tennis battling for supremacy at the beginning of 2013.

It was not to be Murray's night. He seemed to struggle with blisters on his feet but, true professional that he is, he never gave up; it was just that Djokovic got better and better. I heard that after the match, Djokovic gave out chocolates at the press conference and left on a 3 am flight to get back to Europe as quickly as possible so that he could begin recovering and preparing for the Davis Cup. Is he a man or machine?

So where now for Andy? He played an incredible tournament and he has a steely glint in his eye and a belief in himself and his abilities that was evident not only against Federer but also in the final in spite of the result. Andre Agassi, commentating at the Australian Open this year, said that he thinks that 2013 will be "the year of the Murray".

I have to say that I couldn't agree more. What worries me now is not that Murray will have us all sitting at the edge of our seats in future finals wondering what if? What worries me is that we don't take the opportunity to capitalise on this new role model who embodies a self- belief and a 'can do' attitude that could transform not just the way we develop tennis in Scotland but also the collective mindset we have about ourselves as a nation.

Follow the Yellow Balloon

I had my very own 'Dorothy' moment yesterday.

The conditions were perfect: no tornadoes or wild winds from the West. There weren't even any winged monkeys to distract me from the task in hand. Nor was there a road of yellow brick.

But there was a yellow balloon.

I decided to aim for a finish time of 3.10 which means trying to run each km in 4 mins, 30 secs. I went through the first km in 4.25. So far, so good, only 41.2 to go. At 2k, the watch said 8:40 so I knew I had run a little faster and tried to calm myself down to a riot. At 3k my watch said 12:36 and I decided to suspend looking at the watch till 10k to offset the stress that was building about peaking too soon. That's when I spotted the yellow balloon.

I ran along behind it for a while trying to see what it said. It was attached to a man who looked rather fit and he was running beside another man who had a flag extending from his head. I soon realised they were 3 hour pacers and I decided in that moment to suspend what my scarecrow brain had planned for me and try and keep them in my sights.

They had attracted quite a following. I usually end up running on my own in races for some reason. It's always crowded at the start but I quickly fall into a running vacuum. It was a different experience to run with a large pack of 15-20, mainly men. There were 2-3 women including me. We were all slight, no taller than 5"2 and I have no doubt that running behind this group helped us all, like 'drafting' in cycling. Well, there have to be some advantages of hailing from the Land of Munchkins.

I couldn't keep up the whole time so I spent the race falling behind and catching up like the tide going in and out. At points I didn't have the heart to keep up, especially after drink stations where my strategy was to stop and walk for a bit while swallowing, as I can't really drink and run at the same time. A sense of pride provided bursts of energy when I heard voices from the crowd announcing in awe, "they're the 3 hour group", or, "that's 3 hour pace, son". Still, I held myself in check, not pushing too soon. Pride comes before a fall and I was nowhere near sub 3 yet.

I had heard of a dreaded hill at 35k and so I made a surge to stick with the pacers. This helped a lot as they spent the whole time commentating and chatting. "Tram tracks ahead!", "drinks station on the left", "hey, look there's that guy we paced in his first marathon in Bangkok!". I found it quite entertaining which was a great distraction from suffering and self-doubt. After running with them for a few minutes, I felt a new wave of courage come over me and I decided to make a break and move in front of the 3 hour group.

The feeling of elation that came over me at this point was the only power I could call upon to offset the pain. My heart and lungs were in great shape but my legs and my abdominal muscles were crying out for help. My head was starting to hurt a little too as the temperature crept up and dehydration kicked in.

But the end was nigh. There was a gift of a downward spiral into the MCG. "Take the camber, take the camber", I chanted to myself having no idea what it actually meant, as I approached the entrance to the stadium. I felt my legs continue to build speed as I heard first a steward call out, "marathoners to the right" and then my brother's voice rise up through the noise of the crowd, "come on Julie, you're doing a great time!". I sensed the excitement in his tone. He knew that I was on the verge of going sub 3 but I didn't dare look at my watch again. I had no idea how much further I had to go inside the MCG as I took the middle lane reserved for marathon runners. Glancing up, I could see that there was at least 200m left to the inflatable red archways that marked the end. My legs were going strong and I pushed through, overtaking one other runner on the way to my very own Emerald City.

After the race, I was overwhelmed by emotion and sobbed quietly to myself, clicking my heels together. Out of nowhere a man appeared with a huge microphone and beside him, a TV camera.

"Can we interview you for Marathon TV?"
"Of course." I replied, choking back the tears and wondering whether this was a real or imaginary moment, such is the feeling of post traumatic marathon disorder.
"Can you tell us a little bit about your experience today?"
"Well," I began, "there were no wild winds or winged monkeys, but there was a yellow balloon."

Julie finished the Melbourne Marathon on Sunday 14th October 2012 in 2:58:12 and wants to thank everyone who helped her on her journey. You know who you are.

Back to the Future

Now that I'm back in Australia after a lovely ten weeks in Scotland, I have been pondering over a subject that I could write about on this blog that would be a) interesting b) allow me to post consistently and c) combine the challenges of tennis coaching and life.

The inspiration came to me today and, for those of you that know me, you'll wonder at it feeling like a lightbulb moment.

At some point this morning while taking part in an activity that I do every day, I had my eureka moment: write about running.

So I'm going to start writing about what I talk about when I talk about running. (Sorry Haruki!)