Bayley and Davies Lead GB Squad to France as World Para Table Tennis Championships Preparation Steps Up

On the floor of the Sheffield training hall, late summer afternoon, I stood in the corner of the room and watched. Outside the window, Britain was turning toward autumn. Inside, wheelchairs and paddles moved to a rhythm of their own — a rhythm that only those who have worked long enough with para table tennis can recognise. Will Bayley gripped the handle of his bat, eyes fixed on the opposite side. Rob Davies adjusted his posture, taking a long breath before each ball. No spectators, no cameras, just the steady sound of the ball bouncing on the table. It was the final day of the summer training camp, a few months before the GB squad would leave for France to compete at the ITTF World Para Elite Yvelines. The next morning, Table Tennis England announced the squad. Twelve faces. An interim Performance Director. And a roadmap already drawn: France in mid-September, Thailand in November. It is the story of a group preparing for the World Para Championships — but also the story of people I have followed for years, on floors that rarely see bright lights. When I was an unpaid assistant at a youth academy in Osaka, I learned one thing: real talent is not always at the centre of the court. It sits at the edges, where few people look. Para table tennis is one of those edges. And in the dust of time, there are gems that only wait for a light to be shone on them. To understand why the trip to France matters, it must be placed within para table tennis's classification system. The sport divides athletes into classes from 1 to 11, based on functional impairment. The lower the number, the more severe the disability. Rob Davies competes in class 1 — the most severe class in the men's wheelchair group. Will Bayley competes in class 7, the standing group. Between the two of them lies a gap in technique, in body, in the way they read a match — but they wear the same shirt. For an observer, the notable point is not who is in the GB squad. It is when they choose to appear. The World Para Championships take place in November in Thailand. The Elite Yvelines event in France runs from the twelfth to the sixteenth of September. The gap between the two is two months — enough to adjust, enough to recover, and also enough to expose problems that cannot be hidden. Shaun Marples, the team's Interim Performance Director, called the France trip "valuable match practice" and "the final time before the team goes to the World Championships". The phrasing sounds gentle, but behind it is a clear strategic calculation: improve world ranking and seeding before entering the biggest stage. For those who have followed para table tennis for years, using an Elite event as a stepping stone is nothing new. What is new is that the GB squad is doing it against the backdrop of a roster that blends veterans with younger faces. Will Bayley — world champion — is the first name mentioned in the announcement. At this age, he is no longer the unheralded sapling in a dark corner of the academy. He is the light itself. But precisely because he is the light, people easily forget that every light was once a faint glow, once doubted, once forced to prove its worth in ways no one saw. Rob Davies — European champion — is the pillar in class 1. In this class, technique is not about foot speed but about the angle of the bat, the ability to read spin, the terrible patience of a man who understands that every point must be won with the mind. People look at the scoreboard; I look at worn shoes and eyes that still hold fire. In Davies, that fire does not flare — it burns slowly, persistently, the fire of a man who knows he must win one ball at a time rather than with a single shot. Beside those two familiar names, the twelve-person squad includes faces that signal a current being carried forward. Jack Hunter-Spivey, Bly Twomey in class 7, Billy Shilton in class 8 — younger athletes. In such a brief announcement, the presence of Twomey and Shilton is no accident. It is a signal of a causal chain being built: today they go to France to accumulate, tomorrow they go to Thailand to learn, and one day they will be the first names mentioned in announcements like this. But here, I must say plainly what short briefs often skip: para table tennis has a problem that elite able-bodied table tennis does not. It is an over-dependence on a few individuals. For nations with developed programmes like Britain, Germany, China or Japan, medals in the classes often come not from a balanced roster but from a few stars capable of carrying the load. This means that a single injury, a single psychological upheaval, a single split with a personal coach, can collapse an entire chain of expectations. I have witnessed that. In 2026, when the pandemic froze the sports world, I sat beside a young athlete in his darkest days. He told me he wanted to quit table tennis. I spent four days and nights editing one hundred and fifty rallies he had played since 2026, divided into five tactical groups, to prove that his value lay not in his legs but in his brain. The pandemic season did not bury a sapling; it only drove the roots deeper. But the lesson I drew went far beyond that personal story: a sport is only healthy when it does not stake everything on a few shoulders. Back to the GB squad. Sending both Bayley and Davies to France is a reasonable move — but also one that reveals pressure. If these veterans are the safe bets for medals in Thailand, then having them compete in France is both about securing good seeding and testing their condition under real match conditions. But it also raises a question: if both need careful load management, is competing in France an investment or a gamble? I have followed the transition from training to competition across many sports, and I have learned that there is a dangerous window between a training camp and a major event. It is the window in which the body is getting used to competitive intensity again, but the nervous system is not yet used to the pressure of scoring. For para athletes, this window is even more fragile, because their bodies have already borne burdens that able-bodied bodies do not have to bear. A fall, a wrong posture, a too-fast load increase in this period can ruin an entire two-year cycle. That is why I view this France trip with a certain caution. Strategically, it makes sense. Logistically, it is necessary. But in terms of risk management, it is a challenge. An Elite event is not a training session. Its results count toward ranking. It has opponents from all over. It has the pressure — even if small — of having to prove oneself. And this is where I want to pause to state a view I have carried for years: demanding that an athlete — especially one returning from injury — "prove themselves" in their comeback match is cruel. It increases pressure, it pushes them into hasty decisions, and in the worst case, it leads to re-injury. The recovery journey is not a rewrite; it is a rereading of oneself, chapter by chapter. The good news is that the GB squad seems to understand this. The Sheffield training camp was extended with positive feedback. No statements were made about medal targets in France. No pressure was placed on the young athletes. This approach — gentle, patient, process-focused — is the one I believe is right. But I must also raise another angle, a blind spot that optimistic briefs often leave out. That is the matter of the interim Performance Director. Shaun Marples is working on an interim basis. This means the GB squad is entering one of the most important phases of the cycle — preparing for the World Championships — with a professional leader not yet officially confirmed. In many sports organisations, this state can be a sign of transition, or it can be a sign of instability. From the outside, it is hard to tell. I do not write about the match; I write about the people the match is sculpting. In this case, the people being sculpted are not only the athletes but an entire system trying to prove it can sustain success across generations. On the opponents' side, the wider picture of para table tennis shows a concentration of power in a few nations. China has long been the dominant force across many classes. Germany, Japan and several other European nations are constant challengers. Britain sits within this group — not a hegemon, but a force capable of producing medals if everything goes to plan. Their position is like that of a mid-tier team at a major tournament: not the number-one contender, but always dangerous when underestimated. This brings me back to a larger question: in sport, where does the true value of a preparation event lie? It is not in the result. It is in the information. The France trip will tell the GB coaching staff: where are Bayley and Davies on their form curves? Do the young athletes such as Twomey and Shilton have the mental fortitude to face international pressure? Which tactical systems are working, and which need to be discarded? Those are questions no training session can fully answer. From my experience of watching matches in Japan, I have found that the best coaches never treat a preparation event as a showcase. They treat it as a laboratory. They test line-ups. They observe athletes' reactions when trailing. They note the smallest details — how an athlete grips the bat at an unfavourable score, how they breathe between games, how they react when an umpire makes a controversial call. Those are things the scoreboard never shows. And that is why I will follow the tournament at Yvelines with particular attention — not to see who wins, but to see who learns. In a sport where the lifespan of a peak can be very short, the ability to learn fast is a more valuable asset than any stroke. There is one thing I always look for when following youth and para squads: traces of geological layers. A team built from people of different backgrounds, with different journeys, connected by a shared goal — that is a team with depth. The GB squad arrives in France with twelve such people. They are not a random collection. They are a causal chain forged over years. As I write these lines, the Sheffield training camp has ended. The wheelchairs have been folded. The paddles have been packed. The GB squad is on the road to France, where they will compete over five days, from the twelfth to the sixteenth of September. Afterwards, they will return home, rest, and prepare for the final journey to Thailand in November. No one knows the outcome in advance. But one thing I can say for sure: what happens in France will shape how people view the GB squad when they step onto the court in Thailand. A big win can build confidence. A small loss can trigger adjustment. And an injury can change everything. The transfer market is an excavation: one must be covered in mud to see the grit and the gem. But in the case of the GB squad, the excavation is not in the transfer market — it is in how they prepare. Every trip, every training camp, every preparation event is a layer of dust laid down, waiting for someone patient enough to dig. I will watch. Not to find medals, but to find traces. Traces of a system trying, of people striving, of a sport seeking to be recognised at its true worth. And if there is one thing I want to say to those reading this, it is this: take a little time to look at para table tennis. Not because it is moving, but because it deserves to be analysed. What happens on a para court is not a story of overcoming — at least not only that. It is a story of technique, of tactics, of intelligence, and of people who have chosen to dedicate their lives to a sport most spectators do not fully understand. In the dust of time, there are gems that only wait for a light to be shone on them. The GB squad goes to France not to shine. They go to prepare for the moment when the light will truly converge on them — in Thailand, in November. And like every other journey in sport, what matters is not the destination, but what one learns along the way. The only question left is: who will be the one to learn the most?