Some players arrive with fanfare. Others announce themselves with a flourish. And some, like South Africa’s Luhann Groenewald, step into the game with a quiet defiance – two hands on the racket, and not a care in the world about how the textbook says you should play.
“I don’t really know why I started playing with two hands,” he says.
“My dad said it’s because the racket was too heavy for me, so I had to hold it with two hands.”
“A lot of coaches told me to switch over to one hand, but I didn’t really like it, so I just kept playing and evolving my game with two hands. And it’s worked. So I’m going to keep doing it.”
There’s no shrug, but you can hear it in his voice. There’s something beautiful about the bluntness of youth. He doesn’t try to over-intellectualise things. Why two hands? It felt natural. Why squash? His dad.
“I started playing by going to the court with my dad.”
But the moment he knew it was serious came a little later. “I think my first memory, if I can say, is when Karim Abdel Gawad and Tarek Momen came to play… an exhibition match at one of the clubs here as part of the Jarvis Cup.
“That really inspired me.”
Not just to play, or compete. But to be one of the best. And every move since has been towards that.
He’s 18 now and heading into his final World Junior Championships this summer in Cairo.
“This one is going to be special for me,” he says, “because I want to walk away with a medal.”
There is no bravado. Just a kid with a plan.
In South African squash circles, Luhann’s name means something already. This will be his third World Juniors. He finished 33rd at his debut event, helped the national team make history with a top-eight finish last year, and now—this year—it’s just him and the court.
And maybe, if things go well, a medal for the suitcase.
But even if it doesn’t go well, there will be another suitcase. One headed to the United States. Drexel University. Philadelphia. A squash hotbed and a launchpad for many of the game’s next big things.
“I’m going in September,” he explains. “I’m studying Business Management, but the big reason for me to go is squash.
“After the four years of studying, I want to go pro and go as high as possible.”
You could dismiss that as teenage optimism. But Luhann is not just another junior dreaming of the PSA Tour. He already plays PSA satellite events. He already trains with world-level ambition. And in the squash bubble, he’s drawing comparisons.
“There’s a lot of players that just came out of college that I follow—players like Victor Crouin, Aly Abou Eleinen—and I mean, they’ve only been out of college for two, three years, and they’re already top 20 in the world. So if I can do that, that would be amazing.”
This year, the road to Cairo has been long. His coach, JP Brits, lives outside Johannesburg, so they meet when they can.
Squash in South Africa is many things. Popular? Yes. But still finding its identity on the world stage.
“One of the big problems in South Africa is there’s not enough PSA tournaments, not enough exposure,” he says. “My coach JP has been doing a lot of work – hosting PSA tournaments and getting players to play more. I think him bringing in all those tournaments and then getting players to play against overseas players develops our game a lot.”
It’s hard not to read between the lines here. Luhann’s rise isn’t happening because of a system. It’s happening in spite of it. The pathway is not paved. It’s self-built.
“I think after me there’s going to be a few juniors doing well,” he says. “And I think me doing well is inspiring other juniors in South Africa.”
And perhaps that is his role, beyond the results. The trailblazer. The one with the weird grip and the wild ambition. A player who proves it’s possible.
“I’ve been going to JP a lot to play,” he says. To fill the gaps, he’s been flying—first to the Dutch Junior Open, then to the European Junior Open. Tournament reps. Match practice. Building for the final tilt.
“Obviously Zakaria is in the main draw and he’s a big favourite to win the tournament,” Luhann says, referring to Egypt’s supremely gifted junior, Mohamed Zakaria.
But there’s no trace of intimidation in his voice.
“I’m not sure about the history of male South African players at the World Juniors, but I don’t think anyone’s ever been in the top 10. For me to walk away with a medal would make me proud. Make my family proud. Make South Africa proud.
“I want to be able to deliver in Egypt.”
There’s no instruction manual for what Luhann Groenewald is trying to do. He’s a player shaped by instinct, by geography, by YouTube clips of Karim Abdel Gawad. He doesn’t fit the mould. He doesn’t even want to fit the mould. But in that way, he’s exactly what squash needs.
A reminder that excellence comes in many forms. That grit and creativity still matter. That sometimes the best way to write a future is with both hands on the grip.
