So, my game’s been in the toilet lately. Seriously, I was playing like a total beginner last week. Lost to Jerry, and Jerry, well, let’s just say Jerry usually donates points to me. It was bad. My forehand was okay-ish, but my backhand? Forget about it. It was like I had a hole in my racquet on that side. Every time a ball came to my backhand, I’d either flub it into the net or send it sailing to the next county. Super frustrating, you know? Makes you think maybe it’s time to hang up the racquet and take up competitive napping.
Time for a Change: The Klok Approach
Anyway, I was moping around, doomscrolling through old tennis forums, and then I remembered some old articles or maybe it was a grainy YouTube clip about this guy, Denis Klok. Not sure if he was a big-shot pro or just one of those cult-figure coaches, but I recalled something about his peculiar way of hitting a two-handed backhand. It wasn’t textbook, that’s for sure. More like a whip-crack, super aggressive, almost like he was trying to tear the cover off the ball every single time. Most coaches would probably tell you not to do it. But hey, my “textbook” backhand was clearly on vacation, so what did I have to lose?
I decided, right then, my next session was gonna be all about trying to channel whatever this Denis Klok guy was doing. Sounded like a plan. A desperate plan, but a plan nonetheless.
The Practice Grind
So, I dragged myself to the courts. It was one of those days, you know? Overcast, bit windy, the kind of day where you’d rather be curled up with a coffee. But I was on a mission. My Klok mission.
I started with my usual warm-up, trying to get the blood flowing. Then, I got a basket of balls and went to the baseline. The idea, as I remembered it, or maybe as I just imagined it for this Klok technique, was a really compact backswing, almost no loop, and then just explode through the ball with everything, focusing on getting insane topspin by brushing up violently. And the follow-through was supposed to be super quick, almost like snapping back.
First few attempts? Absolute garbage.
- Balls shanked off the frame.
- Balls drilled straight into the bottom of the net.
- A few nearly took out the pigeons minding their own business on the adjacent court.
I felt like a complete fool. My arm was already starting to feel weird because the motion was so different from my usual, more conservative swing. I was thinking, “Klok, you madman, what kind of sorcery is this?” For a good twenty minutes, I don’t think I landed more than two balls in a row inside the lines. I was muttering to myself, probably looked like a lunatic to anyone watching.
But I’m stubborn. If I say I’m gonna do something, I’ll keep hammering away at it, even if it feels like I’m hitting a brick wall with my forehead. So, I kept at it. I tried to slow it down, really focus on the contact point, that aggressive brush. I tweaked my grip a tiny bit, tried to get my legs more involved, even though Klok’s style (in my head, anyway) seemed all arm and wrist.
A Glimmer of… Something?
And then, something kinda clicked. Not like a “Eureka!” moment, more like a “Huh, that wasn’t completely terrible” moment. I hit one, and it just flew. Flat, hard, dipped right at the baseline. It felt… powerful. Different. Good different.
So, I tried to replicate that feeling. More misses, for sure. But then another good one. And another. They weren’t consistent, not by a long shot. But when I got it right, the ball had a different kind of venom on it. It was exciting, actually. For the next hour, I just fed myself balls, trying to find that Klok-esque backhand. My shoulder started to ache, my wrist was complaining, but I was too engrossed to care much.
By the end of the session, I was knackered. Sweaty, sore, and probably still looking like I’d been wrestling a bear. My backhand wasn’t magically fixed. Let’s be real. But for the first time in weeks, I hit a few backhands that actually felt like weapons rather than liabilities. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t consistent, but there was a spark. Maybe this Denis Klok fella, or my interpretation of him, was onto something after all. Or maybe I was just so desperate for a change that anything different felt like progress.
Still a long way to go. A very long way. But at least I didn’t feel like taking up napping anymore. Maybe I’ll give this Klok thing another go next time. We’ll see if my arm forgives me by then.
