Learn to Play Tennis with Patrick Rafter        By Andrew Tobin  
The day we did the photographic shoot for Learn to play tennis with Patrick Rafter, the man himself was a tennis
celler-dweller. It was late 1996, he was injured, forbidden to hit a tennis ball under medical advice and despondent about his
tennis future. But if you had been one of the neighbourhood kids who came around to watch the shoot, grab an autograph,
pose with Patrick and maybe, just maybe have a hit with him, you wouldn't have known anything was wrong.
He was polite, cheerful, accommodating, friendly, down-to-earth, no-nonsense and absolutely deviod of any pretensions. He
was generous with his time and patient with the children who came to hero worship. He had a long hit with Elliot who one day
hopes to grace the professional ranks; he posed with twins Dane and Georgina so they'd have an extra special photograph for
their family album; even mum Jennifer got into the act for her own pictorial souvenir and, despite his injured arm, he unleashed
some lethal serves that thudded into the back netting before Dixon could move his racquet one centimetre in response. But best
of all, he left behind a sweaty cap. Jennifer picked it up and asked me if it was mine. I lied and have worn it may times since.
 
All of us who were there that day have cheered Patrick's breathtaking surge up the rankings throughout 1997, which
culminated with his US Open victory and each of us, in our way, feel we have played a part in his extraordinary rise. So have
you, dear reader, by willing him on.

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excerpt from the book "Learn to Play Tennis with Patrick Rafter"