Tennis Max Rousié: Pitch perfect, location off-key

Sometimes a trip to a new court takes me to a delightful, undiscovered corner of Paris, a leafy backwater where you can hear the birds sing, a sunny rooftop or a bustling neighbourhood with an enticing bistro for lunch after a game, a part of Paris that I long to return to, to explore more fully or dream of living in. Rue André Bréchet in the 17th arrondissement ticks none of these boxes! Emerging from the Metro at Porte de Saint-Ouen I had the same sinking feeling I had when we played at Porte de Clignancourt and arrived to find the courts closed due to a strike.

  

It's one of the grimmer fringes of Paris and its charms were not enhanced by the fact that it was being dug up when we visited. Tennis Max Rousié is a short walk from the Metro, but it's a route lined by kebab shops, depressing social housing projects and dubious gangs of youths hanging around aimlessly. It wouldn't warrant so much as a paragraph in a tourist guide and it's certainly not somewhere I'll be flat-hunting.

The sports stadium itself, on the other hand, is as impressive as we have come to expect from municipal facilities in Paris. A well-maintained athletics track, assorted football pitches, basketball courts and three tennis courts (to say nothing of the indoor facilities which I didn't have a chance to inspect). The courts were newly resurfaced in a clay-coloured matting - it always surprises me to find carpet-type surfaces on outdoor courts. It was an easy surface to play on, reassuringly non-slip, easy on the knees and with an even bounce. The net was well-maintained and the netting round the court was high enough to ensure we didn't have any stray balls. We played at 6pm and as we left the floodlights came on. The courts stay open until 10pm.

In short, great courts where we'd love to play again were they not such a long Metro ride from home in the 11th arrondissement. But not a place to linger after tennis. Even the setting sun couldn't shed a romantic light on this lack-lustre district - and that's saying something for Paris.

Tennis Max Rousié

28 rue André Bréchet

75017 Paris

Metro: Porte de Saint-Ouen

   

Léo Lagrange: Brolly good game

Rain was rattling on the roof terrace when I threw back the shutters this morning so I logged on to www.tennis.paris.fr to see if we could switch to an indoor court. Some hope! I thought about cancelling, but I could hear my father's voice as he stood in the doorway of the tennis pavilion looking out over a rain-sodden court: "I think it's brightening up. The birds are singing - we'll be back on in 15 minutes!" So, ever hopeful, we put on waterproofs and set off. And guess what? By the time we'd registered under my son's name (I've discovered that if we're playing with the children we get a reduced rate) and paid for the court, the rain had stopped - and the man in the office promised us a refund if it started again before our time was up.

There was not a soul to be seen on any of the six courts - clearly the French lacked our British optimism in the face of a downpour. The courts dried out surprisingly quickly so there was no danger of slipping and we were soon into the game. 

It's not the first time I've played at Léo Lagrange and it remains one of my favourite spots. A short walk from the metro with well-maintained courts and the feeling of playing at a tennis club surrounded by trees and flowers rather than in a high-rise housing estate on a court that has been crammed in as an afterthought.

It was an unusual sensation having the courts to ourselves on a Saturday morning and we had nearly the full hour before the rain started again. But the man in the office was as good as his word because as we sheltered in the reception while the rain pelted down he gave us a refund. A good lesson not to be deterred by the weather. Hope for a break in the clouds and if you do get rained off, at least you'll get your money back!

Tennis Léo Lagrange
68 Boulevard Poniatowski
75012 Paris
Metro: Porte de Charenton

Tennis Cordelières: Best foot forward!

It's been too long since I had a game of tennis. Six weeks in England over the summer and a spectacular toe injury, caused by a freak escalator accident in Boots the Chemist, conspired to keep me off court during peak season. Even if we'd been in Paris though I suspect the record temperatures in July and August may have had a similar effect.

Now the rentrée is upon us - the French word that means so much more than 'back to school' - so for me it's back to tennis and after many visits to www.tennis.paris.fr  I finally managed to bag a court for 10am on Saturday (rather early for some members of the family, but what better way to kick off the weekend?).

Tennis Cordelières is in the 13th arrondissement not far from the  Corvisart Metro station. I've never had a particularly favourable impression of the 13th from visits to previous courts near the Place d'Italie. But the roads around Rue des Cordèlieres were more low-rise than concrete jungle  (though there are one or two tower blocks thrown in for good measure) and we even found a leafy short cut through a park to reach the courts.

There are two courts tucked in between the buildings - both well surfaced and with well-maintained nets - and as luck would have it we managed to play on both! Just as we came off court after our first set the other court came free following a cancellation and we were able to book it at reduced rate because we were playing with the children. A bonus two hour session meant we had plenty of time to find our form. The weather was perfect, dry and fine, but with no dazzling sunshine to blind us for overhead shots. My toe proved no handicap, though the same could not be said for my husband's shoulder, injured in a boating incident in Bandol, and my son and I won easily by two sets to love. 

Tennis Cordèlieres

35 Rue des Cordèlieres

75013 Paris

Metro: Corvisart

Alan Dixon: Game, set and match

Jumping for joy: My dad is second from the left 

I have my father to thank for my love of tennis. He and my mum met at a tennis club and my earliest memories are of trips to the grass courts at Temple Newsam in Leeds. I have only to catch a whiff of warm wood and creosote to be whisked straight back to my childhood with my brother  Peter in the pavilion waiting for the tennis club tea to begin.

As soon as we were old enough to hold a racket my brother and I were on court ourselves, learning to play under the supervision of my dad or the club coach and it wasn't long before a family four became the preferred way to spend a Saturday or Sunday or a summer evening during the week.

We moved house several times and wherever we went we joined a club making friends and playing lots of club tennis. My dad was a fantastic player who usually played in the team - sometimes belonging to more than one club so he could play more matches. As a Yorkshireman he wasn't known for his extravagance, but when it came to tennis kit he was happy to shop - if it was for tennis I could have it and he would buy us tennis rackets and tennis whites (and it always was white in those days) so we always looked the part. 

He would have so loved me to excel, but I lacked his competitive spirit - I knew how to play and had every opportunity to do so, but I didn't really care whether I won or lost and my wins mostly came when I was playing in the team with my brother who had inherited my dad's determination or of course in a family four where, with dad on my side, I was pretty much guaranteed a victory.

Dad was fiercely competitive and raced around the court. As he got older the years of pounding hard courts in Dunlop Green Flash took a toll on his knees so he wore two knee bandages - lulling his opponents into a false sense of security. He developed a new, crafty style of drop shots and carefully placed lobs, getting his opponent out of place before going in for the kill.

Eventually my mum banned him from playing - fearful he would drop dead of a heart attack rather than lose a game and he took up the more sedate sport of golf which he played with equal enthusiasm, but much less success. 

I never had anything like his success on court, but what I did inherit was a lifelong love of playing tennis. Nothing makes me happier or lifts my heart more. However bad things get a game of tennis is guaranteed to put a smile on my face.

My dad died on Monday at the age of 82, but he will always be with me on court - his voice in my head reminding me to call out the score before each serve so we don't lose track, shouting at me to cover the court or telling me to stand well back to receive serve. Indeed my consistency in serving - not especially powerful, but usually in - comes from his total intolerance of double faults and on the rare occasions when I do double fault I can hear the exasperated noise of disgust he would make and see him shaking his head.  

Whenever I want to remember him I can do no better than head for the courts - which means only one thing, more tennis. Nothing would have delighted him more.

Alan Dixon June 3 1933 - July 20 2015

Tennis Neuve Saint Pierre: Cooling off in the Marais

After confidently proclaiming it can never be too hot for tennis I have to confess it can be and it has been! Paris has seen record temperatures in the last week, but when today dawned cool and blowy I wasted no time in getting on the website to book a court. Amazingly this one was available in the Marais - the first time I've ever seen it pop into the list because there is only one court and it seems to be permanently booked. Tennis Neuve Saint Pierre is practically local for us - a stone's throw from my children's school, but although I've walked along the street many times I've never noticed it in spite of an unusual sculpture over the entrance.

Rue Neuve-Saint-Pierre runs parallel with the Rue St Antoine not far from St Paul Metro station. The court is slotted in between a higgledy-piggledy collection of apartment blocks and a primary school. The walls of the surrounding buildings form a barrier on two sides while one side is open and the other fenced with some rather holey netting which necessitated lots of running out to collect balls from the neighbouring basketball court or from the entrance. You are guaranteed to have the place to yourself, though we counted a few spectators in various open windows. The court surface was excellent, but a mishmash of markings sometimes makes it difficult to remember which line is which. It was cool, breezy and there were even a few drops of rain, a refreshing change from the sweltering heatwave. A nice enough court, but I won't be rushing back even if it were possible to get another booking.
7 out of 10.

Tennis Neuve Saint Pierre
5-7 Rue Neuve-Saint-Pierre
75004 Paris

Tennis Atlantique: Feeling hot, hot, hot!

Paris is sizzling. It is the hottest week of the year with temperatures set to soar to 39C - in fact my greatest find has not been a tennis court, but the open air swimming pool at the Porte de Vincennes. But can it ever really be too hot for tennis? Parisians certainly don't think so! The courts are as booked up as ever and I still can't get a court in the Luxembourg Gardens. Anyway, isn't this the weather I dreamed about when toughing it out on freezing mornings in winter or even on the drearier days of the average British summer? So onwards and upwards - in fact upwards quite literally since I'd booked a court on top of Montparnasse station in the Jardin Atlantique. 

I'd been to the Jardin Atlantique years ago when my children were tiny and I remember just how unexpected it was to find this garden on the roof surrounded on all sides by office blocks and flats with the Montparnasse Tower, the tallest building in Paris, looming over everything. The garden is a green lung of sorts in the surrounding concrete and tarmac and has five tennis courts running down one side. Russian vine tumbling over the courtside netting offered some welcome shade to keep our water cool and retreat from the full glare of the sun between games, but the view from the court is essentially one of office blocks and of course the tower. And although you can't actually see the station it certainly makes its presence felt - we could hear the TGVs rumbling underfoot as we played and the SNCF chimes that precede each station announcement. Sunglasses and visors at the ready, it actually felt cooler on court than off although I'm sure the heat made the balls more bouncy as so many returns bounced away over my head.

It was an excellent court, but perhaps a bit too far from home to become a favourite and my children would definitely recommend the creperies in the nearby Rue du Montparnasse.

Tennis Atlantique
25 alle du Capitaine Dronne
75015
Paris

Docteurs Déjerine: Putting other courts in the shade!

It was the first day of the school holidays and I decided to start as I mean to go on - with a game of tennis. I wasn't so organised that I'd booked anything ahead which was how we ended up back at Docteur Déjerine in the 20th arrondissement which is technically a covered court. I say technically because it has open sides and when we played here for the first time in December we nearly froze. No need for covers this time, Paris was basking in a balmy 24 degrees and I was feeling slightly resentful of paying a €17 an hour - no wonder it was the only court left. In fact it turned out to a blessing as the roof shaded us from the strong sunshine while the open sides let in a cooling breeze and no need for sunglasses or visor. These were, dare I say it, perfect conditions. It might have been my imagination, but I think we all played better for it - though it could be an expensive summer if we get too hooked.
Finally I just need to take a moment to share two of my favourite birthday cards this year.

Thank you Gilli - you have perfectly captured my formal tennis attire (and I believe the ladies are even enjoying a Lapsang Souchong).

And thanks to Jonty for so perfectly anticipating my new Sweaty Betty outfit!

Tennis Docteurs Déjerine

32 -36 rue de Docteurs Déjerine

75020 Paris

Metro: Porte de Montreuil