I had never realised there were such things as badminton shoes, but at the National Badminton Centre in Milton Keynes, the training ground for England's best players, they won't let you on the courts without them. Fortunately they have a pair in my size I can borrow. They look like ordinary trainers to me, but what do I know?
Most of us experience badminton as an outdoor pursuit, played on the flattest expanse of grass available. This is how it all started in the mid-19th century, when English expatriates in India added a net to an old game for children called battledore and shuttlecock. I recall taking badminton for gym once (it represented the path of least resistance), but standing on one of the National Badminton Centre's eight pristine courts in my borrowed shoes, I immediately feel out of my depth. On the wall above my head is a banner: 'I don't train because I like training. I train because I like winning.' On a neighbouring court two players are casually batting a shuttlecock between them at alarming speed — it looks unreal, as if the blurry projectile had been added to the scene later using CGI.
I am here to play a quick game with Jenny Wallwork, who, at 23, is the holder of two national titles. She currently shares England's highest international ranking with her mixed doubles partner, Nathan Robertson, and the pair are among the brightest prospects for the London 2012 Olympic and Paralympic Games. As I walk over to court no 2 with her, it occurs to me that I don't even really know the rules. 'Is it like tennis?' I ask her. 'No,' she says. 'Is it like Ping-Pong?' 'No.'
She shows me the correct grip for serving, with the thumb on the flat of the racquet, and how to hold the shuttlecock before striking it. It has real feathers, I notice. My first serve loops high over the net, and is returned along the same trajectory. I get under it, bring my racquet back and unleash an almighty overhead swat. The shuttlecock lands behind me. I decide I shouldn't worry too much about the scoring.
After a few minutes I adjust to the shuttlecock's weird flight — it zips toward you, then suddenly slows down and hangs in the air – and find myself able to return it. But I'm already knackered. I'm running all over the court, and I can't drive the shuttle deep enough to get past Wallwork. She doesn't have to move. This is an aspect of the game I had never considered: its sheer relentlessness. If we have to keep going until someone passes out, that person will certainly be me. Eventually a terrible backhand stab sends the shuttle fluttering to the ground at my feet. It feels like killing a bird.
Jenny Wallwork recently moved from Leeds to Milton Keynes to be closer to the Centre. She's been playing badminton for as long as she can remember. 'Both my parents used to play,' she says. 'My mum played for England a couple of times.' She trains four or five hours a day, six days a week. 'It's not just badminton,' she says. 'It's a lot of agility-based stuff, weights in the gym.' As far as she's concerned, success is as much about determination as it is talent: 'We've seen a lot of skilful players just come and go.'
