At a moment when I have to think about retiring, I am looking back at a few events/articles/photos that stuck in my mind.
And while controversy, nastiness, lunacy, fake news and “theorie du complot” are damaging the sport I worship, I’ll go back into my drawers and try to make you dream, cry, and laugh about the Squash I love.

It will be random, not in chronological order. Fasten your seat belts…

First one. My Shabana’s worse memory

I used to say two things about Shabs.

One, you never know who will turn up on court: him or his grandmother. That was at the beginning of his career. I used to bang my notebook (hardcover) on his head at the end of matches where his granny was playing. It got to the point he used to protect his head when he used to see me coming closer. True story.

Two: Shabana was like Paris; only when I saw them did I realise how much I had missed them.
It’s still true.