Navigating Squash Scores and Life’s Complexities: Lessons from the Court
This past weekend, I found myself volunteering at my daughter Amy’s squash competition, held at a lovely rural school in Canford. Well, I say "volunteered"—Kathy volunteered me. The school had a beautiful setting, complete with a Real Tennis Court nestled in the grounds. It all felt quite grand as I arrived with Amy, ready to tackle my duties.
The organisers were delightful and patient, explaining how the points system and match schedule worked. I listened carefully, asked the right questions (or so I thought), and left with a neat stack of papers and two sharpened pencils. No rubber, though. Before things got underway, I took a moment to study the schedule. It all seemed straightforward enough—get two competitors on court, the next two scoring, me officiating, and recording the scores on a grid. How hard could it be?
Well, harder than I thought.
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The Moment I Realised I Was Out of My Depth
Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t figure out where or how to mark up the grid with the scores. In a moment of desperation, I turned to Amy. She’s great with puzzles, but even she couldn’t crack it. “Sorry, Dad, not a clue,” she said, then dashed back to warm up on court. Feeling a bit foolish, I went back to the organisers for help. Kindly and patiently, they walked me through it again. “Got it,” I said, trying to sound confident. Spoiler: I didn’t have it.
At this point, I thought I’d WhatsApp Kathy for some guidance. After all, she’s always a reliable back-up. But no mobile service. Brilliant. Here I was, aged 54, having obtained a Private Pilot’s Licence, navigated across oceans as a Commercially Endorsed Yachtmaster, become a Fellow of two Financial Planning Professional bodies—and this scoring system had me completely baffled!
A 25-Year-Old Trick That Changed the Game
Still, I pressed on. I wasn’t entirely confident in my ability to fill in the grid, so I started recording all the results on a separate sheet just in case. A good decision, as it turned out, because by the fourth game, one of the organisers came over to see how I was getting on. I pointed to a box on the sheet. “Er, I think this figure is wrong…”
The organiser, who had been running this scoring system for 25 years, quickly spotted my error. He explained that he’d actually designed the whole system himself over the course of 12 months, while commuting daily on the Red Jet ferry. He patiently walked me through my mistake, then offered a simple trick: “Put an asterisk in each player’s box at the start of the game. Then you’ll know which boxes to fill in.”
Eureka! Everything clicked into place. What a relief. It all seemed obvious once I knew how. I even found myself teaching another volunteer, a fellow "squash mum," how to do it by the second half of the competition.
As for Amy, she faced both boys and girls in the competition. She was a bit nervous about playing the boys—they hit the ball hard. But she managed to beat one of them and came close in another match. She should be proud of herself, and I’m certainly proud of her.
A Lesson Learned
This experience reminded me of what it must feel like for my clients when they’re facing financial problems or decisions that seem complicated. Just like my confusion with the squash scoring grid, financial matters can feel overwhelming. But with the right advice, and maybe a simple trick or two, everything starts to make sense.
That’s why seeking advice matters—it takes something that feels complex and breaks it down into manageable steps, so you can be confident you’re doing it right. And sometimes, being the one learning today means you can be the one teaching tomorrow.
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