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Saying that the local council is responsible for "ruining the traditional character of the place" is not NPOV. Can anyone quote published comments from both sides of the argument? Can anyone provide a reference for this vote, too...? -- Oliver P. 01:23 9 Jun 2003 (UTC)

The entry was untrue. The new development took place on the site of the Vinyards, which was once a country house (I don't think it was ever stately, and then a hotel. There is sward at the bottom of the development which no doubt I would be accused of terrible exaggeration if I described it as a village green. From the row of trees which lined it, I believe that it was part of the grounds of the Vinyards. The Council did try and turn this into a car park, in the early seventies, but public pressure put a stop to this. Also please note that Great Baddow has never been a town.Harry Potter 00:47, 20 Aug 2003 (UTC)

Removed some stupid vandalism of the page. --BF 07 19:44, 28 February 2007 (UTC)[reply]

There are in fact five pubs in Great Baddow - also the Beehive and the Star; the Carpenters Arms recently closed down, and Seabrights Barn is just across the boundary into Galleywood. Edit made. I also gave more complete information on schools. Peterkirk 11:38, 4 May 2007 (UTC) (Great Baddow resident)[reply]

River Baddow

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Was the River Chelmer ever known as the Baddow? I can't find any references confirming this, other than those citing this article. 85.210.205.157 (talk) 15:45, 13 October 2011 (UTC)[reply]

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THE STORY OF A POLISH INTROVERT

Nothing can prepare you for winning your first Grand Slam. Especially if you’re an introvert, like me, from a place where nobody would expect you to succeed in tennis. Well, at least didn’t expect it until now.

After Roland Garros, things had been pretty normal when I was in France. But when I got back to Poland? In Poland, it was really different.

My family was invited to an award ceremony at the presidential palace. This was three days after the finals. They were honoring me with a medal, and paparazzi followed us. I live outside of Warsaw, and surprisingly, they were waiting in front of my house with cameras.

So it’s me, my dad, and a security officer in the car, and my dad’s driving. And it feels like we’re going really fast, flying past all these blurry stores. My dad’s checking the mirrors and turning onto side streets. It looked like a scene in an American movie — ha ha. It sounds scary, but we were having fun and laughing the whole way into the city.

Even now, something like that feels weird to talk about — it’s usually not really Polish way to speak about your accomplishments, to be honest. But I think about that day a lot. In the moment, there was all this adrenaline.

Pure adrenaline — that’s the only way I can think to explain what it was like. Nothing could have prepared me for it. Winning my first Slam obviously changed everything for me, overnight. There are still many places in the world where for sure I’m not going to be recognized. If a random person looks at me, they’re not going to say, Oh, she’s an athlete, she plays tennis. But not in Poland. I’ve actually had some situations where people recognized me by my voice when I was ordering something to eat.

I’m grateful, but truthfully, sometimes it all feels strange and disorienting.

When I win, and I’m in that moment on court, or even just seeing a picture of me being on court, I feel so much emotion. But to be honest, as surreal as it is, I just don’t care very much about being on billboards or anything like that.

But it’s funny the way memories work, because when I think about winning Roland Garros that first time and driving into Warsaw three days later, I don’t really think about any of the craziness. Or the medal or the ceremony. Or even the chasing paparazzi. I mostly just remember my dad driving the car. I remember looking over at him, and seeing a big grin on his face.

He always believed. Even before I did. Which either makes him a really great dad or really crazy — ha ha.

you might imagine that I stayed up all night as a kid dreaming about being a big tennis player, but no. To tell you the truth, at night, I dreamed about feeling a bit more natural in social situations.

There was a time in my life when I was so introverted that speaking to people was a real challenge. Until I was 17 or 18, it was hard sometimes to look people in the eyes. I hated how hard it was for me. It felt really bad not being able to make connections. But with some people, my mind was just blank, and I didn’t know what to say. Small talk wasn’t natural to me.

My story isn’t like a lot of other athletes, and that’s okay.

Even on the court, I wasn’t that kind of kid who instantly fell in love with the racket. When I hear stories like that from other athletes, I think, Can a kid really feel it?? Because it wasn’t like that for me, not at six. I definitely liked playing a lot, but at the beginning, I didn’t dream of being a professional tennis player.

That was my dad’s dream then. He wanted his daughters to do sports, to be active and maybe someday become athletes. I remember when I was ten (and a little more extroverted), I’d want to stay after school and play football with the other kids rather than training tennis. My dad would come looking for me at school shouting, “Igaaaa, come here!!!”

There were many moments where I didn’t want to push myself at tennis, so he did. He was always there, believing in me. He taught me how to be a professional, and have discipline and regularity. It was something he gave me to use in sport and in life. It wasn’t that he was super tough. But he was strict about practices and healthy routines in a way that, when I look back on it, I’m grateful for. My dad was that voice in my head that was always leading me the right way.

I remember when it finally clicked for me. I was 15. It was my first Junior Grand Slam, at Roland Garros actually. And the thing that really amazed me was, during the tournament, the whole city lives on tennis for two weeks. Everybody in Paris celebrates. And the quality they provided for the athletes was something I had never experienced before. Where I trained in Poland as a teenager, they didn’t even heat up the indoor venue in the winter before school. It would be like three degrees — inside.

Here, the venue was huge and really nice. Row after row of perfect red clay courts. It’s actually amazing to feel under your feet when you’re hitting the ball. When I started playing, I don’t know, it was like the ball just flew exactly where I wanted it to. It really struck me because I don’t get moments like that often. And it wasn’t just the venue and the atmosphere, but the feeling of being surrounded by all the big champions.… to see Nadal, Serena, and others at the venue, to be closer to them.… I left Paris thinking about how I just wanted to work harder and get better and better.

But I never really believed that it actually was going to be possible for me to win a Grand Slam or be world number one, because I’m not from a country with a long tradition of playing tennis. I think if I were American, I would’ve believed in myself a lot more from a young age, because they have so many famous people that made it, and so many great examples to follow. (Also, Americans make a big fuss about it….. the “American dream” and all that). There’s a kind of system that has to be in place for that kind of consistency, if that makes sense. When I looked at how many people actually succeeded in tennis in Poland not so long ago, it was only Agnieszka Radwańska really, so I just didn’t think it’d be possible.

It’s funny, when we started working together at the end of 2021, my coach Tomasz said that the goal was to be #1 within a year. I was like, Yeah okay, sure. He’s always so motivating, but I felt like that was just movie coach talk, you know? Like Ted Lasso — ha ha. Many things have to happen to win a Slam, so I didn’t really feel like it was all in my hands.

Poland doesn’t have that “system” yet, per se. The conditions aren’t as great for the athletes, the money’s not there, truthfully. Sometimes growing up I had nowhere to play, so my dad always had to adjust. And it wasn’t easy for him to put all that money into hiring a coach, and having a court to practice on.

That part is the hardest to think back on and share openly, but I want to be honest.

When I think about my dad, I remember how it wasn’t so “smooth” all the time. I think he tried really hard to protect me from reality outside of tennis. He used to be an Olympic rower, and I think his main goal from the beginning, when he first noticed me and my sister’s talent for sports, was to kind of make us better athletes than he was. He basically dedicated his whole life to helping us do that. He never said it, but I could see it.

He’s not really open with his emotions. I would say that’s also a Polish thing, for people from that generation not to open up a lot. I mean, it’s not easy to talk about. Especially, I think, when you’re a dad. You want to be strong and not show your kids that you’re worried about something. But the emotions are still there. At that time money was tight, so it couldn’t have been easy for him, I don’t think. It’s not like we had a kind of emotional conversation like you see in the movies, but I knew how he felt. I also knew how much he believed in me.

I remember calling my dad when I found out that Ash was retiring.

It was March. We had an apartment in Miami for the Open because I had been staying in hotels for the first few months of the year. So I was in the apartment, and I think I was watching Parks and Recreation or something when my psychologist, Daria, came in and said Ash announced her retirement. I didn’t understand at first. I was like, What? How is that possible?? And then I started crying.

There was some confusion about what was going to happen because I had only been world No. 2 for three days. So I called my dad, and it was the middle of the night in Poland. I never call him, we always text on Messenger or WhatsApp, so he thought something bad was happening. But I think he was so sleepy that he wasn’t really processing. He didn’t get it. He was just like, Yeah, okay great.

But I was sobbing. I couldn’t stop crying. Honestly, it didn’t really have that much to do with potentially moving up in the ranking. It might sound strange, but I was so confused and shocked that Ash was 25, and she was retiring.

I always had this image in my mind that you retire when you’re 32, and your body can’t cope anymore. I also felt like Ash has the best tennis out there, hands down. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I didn’t know if she was unhappy or something. But then I watched the video on Instagram, and I understood.

Right now, I understand it even more.

I feel every year, in a different way, how tough it is to be on tour. You have many obligations that you have to fulfill, and you have to learn how to balance that with the work you’re doing on court. You realize that your job is not simply to “put this ball in that square.” It gets a little bit more complicated the farther you go, and sometimes, a little bit less fun, truthfully. It’s hard to have that kid that you have in your head, or in your body, show up every time.

And there’s the expectations — having the feeling that you played so well and now you have to keep playing at that level, with no mistakes.

After I won Roland Garros again last year, I hoped I would be able to play without pressure. But in Toronto and Cincinnati, I realized how hard it is to be world number one when every player wants to beat you. They’re playing their best tennis against you.

I’ve always struggled with feeling like I have to do everything exactly right all the time. Even in everyday life, I feel like I have to do each task until the end, and very well. Like when I clean up the house, I feel myself wasting all this energy, but I can’t stop because I have to do it perfectly. In practice, I usually leave feeling like I haven’t done enough. I have to force myself sometimes to feel proud of myself. I have to force myself to do that.

But on the other hand, I know that the quality of having to do everything right is the thing that led me to this point in life, so it can be hard to work on it. And it can get really destructive.

For instance, I didn’t think I proved myself winning Roland Garros for the first time. I felt like it kind of happened by mistake, like I was in the right place at the right time, I played well, and it somehow happened. So going into the 2021 season, I felt like, Okay, now I have to prove myself. And it was mentally awful for me at first. I wanted to play the same way I did in Paris the year before, but the conditions were totally different. I hadn’t played a match in two months, and I wasn’t confident. I was also working with a big sponsor for the first time, and I felt this pressure, like if I didn’t achieve something, I’d be this huge disappointment. That was something I really had to work through.

Things turned around with the Australian Open, but then my biggest struggle happened that summer during the Tokyo Olympics. I cried on the court after I lost in straight sets, and I felt like people were judging me a little bit. Then, in Guadalajara, I was exhausted mentally and physically, and I didn’t really know what to do. I just felt helpless on the court, and I cried again. I was worried how people would see me. I was ashamed that I did that and thought it was not the way a champion should be.

I think in a way, that’s why hearing about Ash’s retirement brought up so many emotions in me.

There are these ideas that we have in ourselves as players that come from our parents and tennis and media and all this about how an athlete should be. But when I saw Ash, I was like, Wow, you can choose to do this differently. While you’re on this journey, striving for excellence, you can sometimes say, “Okay, that’s enough.” You’re in control, the whole way. No one else is driving the car.

And sometimes the best solution is not giving a sh*t, honestly. I am sorry to curse, but if there is some secret to my success in the last 3.5 years , it’s giving myself that freedom to not care what people think.

That’s what led me to winning another Grand Slam and the fourth one. That’s what led me to No. 1. Letting go.

When I have moments now where I feel a little bit insecure, that’s what I remind myself of.

sadly some feel Swiatek most notable and recognized achievement thus far is not 4 Grand slams achieved by 22. but the stamina and efficiency with which she unleashed 91 expletives in 5 minutes and 34 seconds—one per 3.7 seconds on February 13 last year at a pre event interview at Qatar open. 

Reporters consistently painted her as a thoughtful, self-aware, candid female .  never once came across as someone   likely to fit 77 iterations of the F-word  into a six-minute interview—and certainly not one that was clearly being recorded. So why, was Swiatek  agitated to the brink of absurdity on Monday morning last February  ? Swiatek complaints were oddly and exclusively self-serving. At no point was he defending one of her  coaches or the team in general. The entire rant was spurred by the fact that she felt the media’s reporting was “making my  tennis f****** harder.”  brought up sore fingers during loss to Elena rybakina at Australian open  , but all within the context of how reporting it (in her mind) negatively impacted her tennis  performance. He wasn’t protecting Mesoraco or she was angry at the media, because she felt they were reporting things that hindered her ability to win games, which is his main

I


You might imagine that I stayed up all night as a kid dreaming about being a big tennis player, but no. To tell you the truth, at night, I dreamed about feeling a bit more natural in social situations.

There was a time in my life when I was so introverted that speaking to people was a real challenge. Until I was 17 or 18, it was hard sometimes to look people in the eyes. I hated how hard it was for me. It felt really bad not being able to make connections. But with some people, my mind was just blank, and I didn’t know what to say. Small talk wasn’t natural to me.

My story isn’t like a lot of other athletes, and that’s okay.

Even on the court, I wasn’t that kind of kid who instantly fell in love with the racket. When I hear stories like that from other athletes, I think, Can a kid really feel it?? Because it wasn’t like that for me, not at six. I definitely liked playing a lot, but at the beginning, I didn’t dream of being a professional tennis player.

That was my dad’s dream then. He wanted his daughters to do sports, to be active and maybe someday become athletes. I remember when I was ten (and a little more extroverted), I’d want to stay after school and play football with the other kids rather than training tennis. My dad would come looking for me at school shouting, “Igaaaa, come here!!!”

There were many moments where I didn’t want to push myself at tennis, so he did. He was always there, believing in me. He taught me how to be a professional, and have discipline and regularity. It was something he gave me to use in sport and in life. It wasn’t that he was super tough. But he was strict about practices and healthy routines in a way that, when I look back on it, I’m grateful for. My dad was that voice in my head that was always leading me the right way.

I remember when it finally clicked for me. I was 15. It was my first Junior Grand Slam, at Roland Garros actually. And the thing that really amazed me was, during the tournament, the whole city lives on tennis for two weeks. Everybody in Paris celebrates. And the quality they provided for the athletes was something I had never experienced before. Where I trained in Poland as a teenager, they didn’t even heat up the indoor venue in the winter before school. It would be like three degrees — inside.

Here, the venue was huge and really nice. Row after row of perfect red clay courts. It’s actually amazing to feel under your feet when you’re hitting the ball. When I started playing, I don’t know, it was like the ball just flew exactly where I wanted it to. It really struck me because I don’t get moments like that often. And it wasn’t just the venue and the atmosphere, but the feeling of being surrounded by all the big champions.… to see Nadal, Serena, and others at the venue, to be closer to them.… I left Paris thinking about how I just wanted to work harder and get better and better.

But I never really believed that it actually was going to be possible for me to win a Grand Slam or be world number one, because I’m not from a country with a long tradition of playing tennis. I think if I were American, I would’ve believed in myself a lot more from a young age, because they have so many famous people that made it, and so many great examples to follow. (Also, Americans make a big fuss about it….. the “American dream” and all that). There’s a kind of system that has to be in place for that kind of consistency, if that makes sense. When I looked at how many people actually succeeded in tennis in Poland not so long ago, it was only Agnieszka Radwańska really, so I just didn’t think it’d be possible.

It’s funny, when we started working together at the end of 2021, my coach Tomasz said that the goal was to be #1 within a year. I was like, Yeah okay, sure. He’s always so motivating, but I felt like that was just movie coach talk, you know? Like Ted Lasso — ha ha. Many things have to happen to win a Slam, so I didn’t really feel like it was all in my hands. “I never really believed that it actually was going to be possible for me to win a Grand Slam or be world number one, because I’m not from a country with a long tradition of playing tennis.IGA ŚWIĄTEK Poland doesn’t have that “system” yet, per se. The conditions aren’t as great for the athletes, the money’s not there, truthfully. Sometimes growing up I had nowhere to play, so my dad always had to adjust. And it wasn’t easy for him to put all that money into hiring a coach, and having a court to practice on.

That part is the hardest to think back on and share openly, but I want to be honest.

When I think about my dad, I remember how it wasn’t so “smooth” all the time. I think he tried really hard to protect me from reality outside of tennis. He used to be an Olympic rower, and I think his main goal from the beginning, when he first noticed me and my sister’s talent for sports, was to kind of make us better athletes than he was. He basically dedicated his whole life to helping us do that. He never said it, but I could see it.

He’s not really open with his emotions. I would say that’s also a Polish thing, for people from that generation not to open up a lot. I mean, it’s not easy to talk about. Especially, I think, when you’re a dad. You want to be strong and not show your kids that you’re worried about something. But the emotions are still there. At that time money was tight, so it couldn’t have been easy for him, I don’t think. It’s not like we had a kind of emotional conversation like you see in the movies, but I knew how he felt. I also knew how much he believed in me.

I remember calling my dad when I found out that Ash was retiring.

It was March. We had an apartment in Miami for the Open because I had been staying in hotels for the first few months of the year. So I was in the apartment, and I think I was watching Parks and Recreation or something when my psychologist, Daria, came in and said Ash announced her retirement. I didn’t understand at first. I was like, What? How is that possible?? And then I started crying.

There was some confusion about what was going to happen because I had only been world No. 2 for three days. So I called my dad, and it was the middle of the night in Poland. I never call him, we always text on Messenger or WhatsApp, so he thought something bad was happening. But I think he was so sleepy that he wasn’t really processing. He didn’t get it. He was just like, Yeah, okay great.

But I was sobbing. I couldn’t stop crying. Honestly, it didn’t really have that much to do with potentially moving up in the ranking. It might sound strange, but I was so confused and shocked that Ash was 25, and she was retiring.

I always had this image in my mind that you retire when you’re 32, and your body can’t cope anymore. I also felt like Ash has the best tennis out there, hands down. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I didn’t know if she was unhappy or something. But then I watched the video on Instagram, and I understood.

Right now, I understand it even more.

I feel every year, in a different way, how tough it is to be on tour. You have many obligations that you have to fulfill, and you have to learn how to balance that with the work you’re doing on court. You realize that your job is not simply to “put this ball in that square.” It gets a little bit more complicated the farther you go, and sometimes, a little bit less fun, truthfully. It’s hard to have that kid that you have in your head, or in your body, show up every time.

And there’s the expectations — having the feeling that you played so well and now you have to keep playing at that level, with no mistakes.

After I won Roland Garros again last year, I hoped I would be able to play without pressure. But in Toronto and Cincinnati, I realized how hard it is to be world number one when every player wants to beat you. They’re playing their best tennis against you.

I’ve always struggled with feeling like I have to do everything exactly right all the time. Even in everyday life, I feel like I have to do each task until the end, and very well. Like when I clean up the house, I feel myself wasting all this energy, but I can’t stop because I have to do it perfectly. In practice, I usually leave feeling like I haven’t done enough. I have to force myself sometimes to feel proud of myself. I have to force myself to do that.

But on the other hand, I know that the quality of having to do everything right is the thing that led me to this point in life, so it can be hard to work on it. And it can get really destructive. For instance, I didn’t think I proved myself winning Roland Garros for the first time. I felt like it kind of happened by mistake, like I was in the right place at the right time, I played well, and it somehow happened. So going into the 2021 season, I felt like, Okay, now I have to prove myself. And it was mentally awful for me at first. I wanted to play the same way I did in Paris the year before, but the conditions were totally different. I hadn’t played a match in two months, and I wasn’t confident. I was also working with a big sponsor for the first time, and I felt this pressure, like if I didn’t achieve something, I’d be this huge disappointment. That was something I really had to work through.

Things turned around with the Australian Open, but then my biggest struggle happened that summer during the Tokyo Olympics. I cried on the court after I lost in straight sets, and I felt like people were judging me a little bit. Then, in Guadalajara, I was exhausted mentally and physically, and I didn’t really know what to do. I just felt helpless on the court, and I cried again. I was worried how people would see me. I was ashamed that I did that and thought it was not the way a champion should be.

I think in a way, that’s why hearing about Ash’s retirement brought up so many emotions in me.

There are these ideas that we have in ourselves as players that come from our parents and tennis and media and all this about how an athlete should be. But when I saw Ash, I was like, Wow, you can choose to do this differently. While you’re on this journey, striving for excellence, you can sometimes say, “Okay, that’s enough.” You’re in control, the whole way. No one else is driving the car.

And sometimes the best solution is not giving a sh*t, honestly. I am sorry to curse, but if there is some secret to my success in the last year, it’s giving myself that freedom to not care what people think.

That’s what led me to winning another Grand Slam and the third one. That’s what led me to No. 1. Letting go.

When I have moments now where I feel a little bit insecure, that’s what I remind myself of. “And sometimes the best solution is not giving a sh*t, honestly. I’m 22, and even though I feel more extroverted than when I was younger, it’s still pretty hard to be open sometimes. But I’ve learned that it’s even harder to hide your emotions.

Actually, my dad is a great example of this.

Not many people know that my dad is pretty sensitive. Even though he never shows any emotion about difficult matters, he cries very easily during movies — I think I get that from him.

This past year was really special, so I made a silly little video that I shared on Twitter, where I recreated the scene in The Lion King, where Mufasa shows Simba their kingdom. The voice actor for Mufasa in the Polish version, who is very famous in Poland, did the video with me. I just wanted to do something to celebrate. In the video, he says that line, “Simba, one day it will all be yours,” but with my name instead. When I showed my dad, he started crying.

I was really touched. I don’t think a lot of people would expect him to be so open with his emotions because of his generation, but that’s just how he is. I could see how much it meant to him to get to watch me succeed in tennis, and in life, and be by my side the whole way.

I didn’t know what to say. But at that moment, I don’t think either of us needed to say anything at all.

When I look back at everything I’ve been through, I appreciate even more what I’ve achieved. I think me and my dad can both spend a lot more time just being proud of ourselves. I don’t know yet if I want to be famous everywhere, if I want to be a global star, but I’m excited to keep going. After winning the U.S. Open, for the first time I felt like I could actually live in that moment a little bit. The main thought I had was, Okay, I did something amazing. I proved that I can also win big titles on hard court. I felt really proud of myself, and I didn’t overanalyze it. I wasn’t thinking about the scale of what I was doing. I just played match by match.

Right now, starting this new season, I feel more confident because I already feel like I did something great. I already feel like in my country I make people proud, and I changed something. I want to keep using my voice to speak up about problems in Poland, like mental health. It’s still something unusual to go to therapy, and I hope to help change that.

And even though my dad’s not so active in my tennis career anymore, he’s still one of the most important reasons why I do this. I look back, and I see all his sacrifices, how he believed in me, and I’m grateful.

Earlier this year, I went on a little vacation to Austria to see a Formula 1 race with him and my sister, and while I was there it really hit me how rare these opportunities are. I realized how special life is, and I could finally just enjoy it.

For once in quite some time, I didn’t feel like I had any baggage on my shoulder.

I was just proud of myself. — Preceding unsigned comment added by 109.159.187.77 (talk) 17:08, 15 February 2024 (UTC)[reply]

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