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The ultimate non-professional super talent: Billy Haddrell By L-J Anjema © 2005 Laurens-Jan Anjema and SquashTalk LLC
I’d like to write this article about an Australian friend of mine, who I haven’t seen or spoken for almost 5 years, who had the most natural swing in the world, whose hard-hitting matched Johny White’s, who smoked and drank like a maniac, who (ironically) inspired me to become a squash professional. The grip. It’s Tuesday afternoon and today I’m practicing with my squash-idol. After having rushed home from school, I’m at the old squash club in The Hague waiting at court 2 for Billy, who plays for the 1st team of the Haagsche Squash Rackets Club. “4 o’clock”, he said. And at 20 past 4 I’m still warming up, stretching and waiting till finally he arrives with a coke and cigarette in his hand, a grin on his face, “Gday maaaate”. After half and hour of trying to return 200 miles-and-hour shots and delicate soft drop-shots, I start complaining about my grip, which is too hard and too slippery. With no delay, Billy walks of court, opens my squashbag, gets my towel, rips it into pieces, folds one off the pieces loosely around the handle of my racket, looks at me with those squashball-sized eyes and says: “There you go mate”. The bet. It’s already hard explaining the routine. Let alone doing
it. He was getting drunk at a bar in some squash club when a fellow-pro
(won’t mention a name) bet him 100 USD he couldn’t do 10
rounds (!) of the difficult figure 8 routine. “You’re on
mate”, he said, stumbled off the stairs to the courts, got a
racket and a ball from a bag somewhere, put his beer on the ground,
and started doing this almost impossible routine perfectly. BANG, BANG,
BANG, BANG, BANG….etc. The chip-assault.
Being the non-pro he was, a smoker and a drinker, his regular weekday dinner used to include ‘a quick lil’ visit to the Drive Thru’ of MacDonald’s or Burger King. Ordering a few double Whoppers with cheese, a large Coke and chips would have been too boring for Billy. He used to have this routine he called ‘the chip-assault’. Now this is not as threatening and complicated as it sounds… It basically consisted of, after having paid the poor 8 dollar-an-hour employee, throwing a little handful of chips at the poor bugger and then driving off, as if he just robbed a bank. Each time funnier then the last.
— Laurens-Jan Anjema
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