Wimbledon

Prince Harry’s holiday from hell

Has grace-and-favour accommodation now fallen from grace – and favour, too? In recent days, we have learned that both our head of state and our (likely) head of government are giving up the free homes that come with the job. The King has said he will not live at Buckingham Palace once major refurbishment works are completed next year. His heir has let it be known that he won’t live there either. The monarch is very happy living at Clarence House, just as his mother was when she became Queen in 1952. Back then, Winston Churchill formally advised the Sovereign that she had to move into the Palace. No modern prime minister would dream of telling the Sovereign where to sleep, least of all one who plans to follow his example. Andy Burnham has said that he will not live at No.

Nobody goes to Wimbledon for the tennis

Two hours and 17 minutes after arriving at Wimbledon, I realise I hate tennis. Hate it? I loathe it. All ‘40-love’ jargon and thwack thwack of a ball. It’s football without the pack mentality. Badminton with better PR.   ‘Why are you even here then?’ asks an Argentinian tennis agent when I say this by the players’ lounge. ‘This is the oldest tournament in the world! It’s the best!’ He’s right. He’s an international expert so of course he’s right. Even if all his singles players were knocked out by day three.  But, of course, that’s exactly why I’m here.

The only thing stopping Nick Kyrgios is himself

It’s hard to watch Nick Kyrgios for long without the sense he wants the world to know he considers everything beneath him. Clearly, journalists are beneath him and he treats them with open contempt at every opportunity, but so too are the officials he abuses, the opponents he mocks and even tennis itself. 'I don’t really like the sport of tennis that much. I don’t love it', he has stated publicly, claiming instead that his real affection is for basketball. To say Kyrgios has failed to realise his talent for tennis is one of sport’s great understatements, and something he seems to accept. 'I thought my ship had sailed,' he said this week about the prospect of ever winning a Slam.

What kills more: heat or cold?

Absolute mayor Andy Burnham wants more devolution and elected mayors. Do voters want that? – Since 2001 there have been 55 referendums on whether to establish the post of elected mayor. Only in 17 cases was there a majority in favour. – The towns and districts keenest on having an elected mayor were Middlesbrough (84% in favour), Croydon (80%) and Mansfield (70%). – The areas least keen on an elected mayor were Guildford (81% against), Bath (79%) and West Devon (77%). Ratings game Which attracts the biggest TV audience in Britain: Wimbledon or the World Cup? – England’s opening match in this World Cup, vs Croatia, attracted a peak audience of 15.4m. England’s quarter-final defeat to France in 2022 had an audience of 19.4m. – This compares with the 8.

Dear Mary: What should I do if the view’s no good with my free tickets to Wimbledon?

Q. Around this time of year a friend, who gets hold of tickets through an agency, usually asks me last-minute to Wimbledon. The trouble is it’s hard to know whether she has good seats. One year was perfection as we had shaded middle-tier seats, but last year we had an obstructed (pillar) view and I would rather have watched at home. I am sure there are those among her friends who would love to be there in any kind of seat so how, without sounding ungrateful or spoilt, can I ascertain what’s on offer before accepting? – H.S., London SW6 A. First familiarize yourself with the court layouts and seat numbers. Then, if she invites you, say: “What an incredible coincidence. I have just been speaking to X (a fictional friend). X has also managed to get last-minute seats.

Wimbledon

The US Open OnlyFans star

From our US edition

Sachia Vickery, a 559th-ranked player, lost her qualifying match yesterday, but likely gained new followers from her activity off the court: OnlyFans. That’s right, Vickery charges $12.99 a month for any fan or sexually-charged viewer to subscribe to exclusive content. During an Instagram Q&A this week, she said, “I’m very open-minded and I don’t care what people think of me. It’s also the easiest money I’ve ever made and enjoy doing it.”Clutch your pearls and breathe. Your first thought might be: Does she need money? Why else would an athlete of her stature resort to OnlyFans. Vickery is hardly broke. She made a reported $2 million in 14 years of professional tennis and even cracked the top 100 in 2018.

Sachia Vickery

The Washington Post can’t cancel John McEnroe

From our US edition

From his lofty BBC and ESPN perches at Wimbledon, John McEnroe is agitating people… again.In particular, he has irked Sally Jenkins from the Washington Post who has accused him of “belching up words” in a diatribe column dedicated to removing him from TV.This, however, only goes to prove that McEnroe can still move the needle. As he should. It is the McEnroe way. Dare I say, it’s the American way – brash, loud, and a bit erroneously confident.Sure, McEnroe mispronounced names this tournament, notably calling Hungarian Marton Fucsovics, “Fuskovitz,” or “Fuksovitz,” in a third round loss to American Ben Shelton. He didn’t fare much better with 26th ranked Stefanos Tsitsipas in this year’s Australian Open.

John McEnroe

Murray shouldn’t have relied on injury-prone Raducanu

Talk about raging against the dying of the light: Andy Murray and President Biden both. Murray because he is no longer as quick on his feet and Joe Biden because he’s no longer, well, quick. At all. Biden has said he will only step down if the Lord Almighty tells him to, and ethereal intervention might not be too far away, after the BBC’s Thought for the Day turned its spiritual gaze on to the Biden/Murray dilemma the other day. Raducanu’s dodgy wrist was not good enough for tiger mum Judy Murray Poor old Murray had tried to keep the end at bay with a mixed doubles partnership with golden girl Emma Raducanu. But this always seemed like a ropey idea dreamed up on the back of a PR man’s napkin after a few too many Pimm’s.

Rafael Nadal: king of the orange brick court

Even the greatest have setbacks. It is how they respond that makes them great. Take your chances, forget the lapses. The triumvirate who ruled men’s tennis this century – Novak Djokovic, Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer – each won just 54 per cent of the points they played. It was about turning it on when it counted. No one could turn it on like Nadal on Parisian clay. The orange brick dust of Roland Garros on which he slid and scampered so well seemed to inspire the Spaniard with magical powers. From 19 visits to the French Open, he returned to Mallorca only five times without the Coupe des Mousquetaires – and once was due to injury. No performer was so suited to a stage.

In praise of Pat McFadden

There is a small section of the Labour party which I greatly admire – those on the party’s right, often from working-class backgrounds, who unrelentingly fight the party’s left without being crypto-Tories. They are more effective than the Conservative right, being more disciplined and less voluble. For decades, they have taken on the Bennite/Corbynite/Islamist/woke tendency and its paler offshoots, such as Ed Miliband. They want genuine economic and social gains for working people rather than ‘saving the planet’ or ‘decolonising’. One such is Pat McFadden, now billed as the third most powerful person in the new government.

This month in culture: July 2024

From our US edition

The Bear, season three Hulu, June 27 America loves a misanthropic, depressive chef. How else would we know the chef is a real artist? The Bear returns for its third season with the trailer promising lots of arguing, screw-ups, failures and everything else you’ve come to expect from the beloved show. We’re not sure why you would take a perfectly good beef-sandwich shop in Chicago and try to turn it into a Michelin-starred restaurant, but we hope Carmy and the gang give us some sort of good reason. — Zack Christenson Jeremy Allen White in The Bear Wimbledon ESPN and ABC, July 1 You know summer has arrived when the brilliant green grass of the All-England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club lights up your screens.

culture

The sheer drudgery of professional tennis

Wimbledon’s starched whites, manicured flower beds and hushed silence enable tennis to present itself as a genteel sport. But Wimbledon only represents tennis in the way that an Olympic 100m final represents athletics. It is the best players in the best setting for a brief period. Actual tennis, the day-to-day life of a regular player on the circuit, is very different. It is relentless, stingy and unsentimental. The most surprising thing about The Racket, Conor Niland’s bruising account of his career as a good (but not great) tennis player, is that he emerges with both his sanity and his compassion intact. Tennis is not an easy game to break into.

I sledged Steve Smith for England

In this summer of sporting dramas, every patriotic sports fan likes to think he’s done his bit to help. I went up to Manchester with my brother last Thursday and in the evening we found ourselves in an Indian restaurant with the England wicket-keeper Jonny Bairstow at the next table. I feel sure it was Edward’s and my manly cries of ‘Good luck, Jonny’ as he left that helped him bat so brilliantly for his 99 not out. Though I suppose it could have been the vindaloo that fired him up. My major influence on the Ashes series came a few days earlier, when I bumped into the Australian all-time-great batsman and scourge of England, Steve Smith. This was on the balcony of the All England Club at Wimbledon, where he was having a quiet chat with some friends.

The Oprah-fication of Wimbledon

From our US edition

Now that the weakest Wimbledon since 1973 — the year of the boycott — is over, a few thoughts about Pam Shriver’s recent revelations that her coach Don Candy, deceased, was also her lover. Candy was fifty at the time, while Pam was seventeen, which in my book made Candy a lucky guy, assuming it was legal. The age of consent varies from place to place, and the only time I had to defend myself was when an irate father, whose twenty-eight-year-old daughter I had dated, rang me early in the morning and complained about me being seventy-two. “There is no age limit as far as being too old,” I told him. He rudely hung up on me. But before I go on about Pam Shriver and her oldie coach, a few comments are in order about how Oprah has taken over tennis and even Wimbledon.

The death of sportsmanship

Now that Wimbledon is over, a few thoughts about youthful brains showing traces of horse tranquillisers, angel dust and cannabis, the ingredients that spell ‘moron’. I mean those sporting idiots who booed Victoria Azarenka after she lost the tiebreak 11 to 9 in the third set to the charming Ukrainian Elina Svitolina. Here’s Vica – a woman, a mother, a wonderful player and, through no fault of her own, a Belarusian – being booed for going along with the decision of Ukrainian players not to shake hands with Russian or Belarusian opponents. When a Ukrainian player refused to shake hands during the French Open last month, the public booed her, not her Russian opponent. The frogs were right. Since when does the accident of birth make one a pariah?

Anyone for tennis – on film?

With Wimbledon fortnight upon us, what better time to explore tennis on the silver screen? Even more fortuitous is that Aidan Turner’s raunchy Amazon Prime series Fifteen Love will debut this summer, in which the Poldark star plays a tennis coach with a chequered past. Turner also features as moustachioed TV presenter Declan O'Hara (shades of Des Lynam as was) in Disney+’s upcoming adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s Rivals, a show apparently so steamy it needed two intimacy coaches. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MykuvVwtXtQ As an aspirational, largely middle-class game, tennis when depicted in the movies is largely free of the pile-ons, punch-ups and bad language of films about football, rugby and other contact sports. But, not as you’ll find out, wholly so...

The secrets of London by postcode: SW (South West)

Ferrets at Buckingham Palace, swearing at Wimbledon and the real-life incident that inspired Del Boy’s fall through the bar – it can only mean that our trivia tour of London’s postcode areas has reached SW… The Clermont was the first hotel in London to have lifts. The ‘ascending rooms’ (as they were known when the hotel opened in 1862) were powered by water pressure. Back then the five-storey building, next to Victoria station, was known as the Grosvenor and was a favourite of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. So much so, in fact, that he included it in ‘The Final Problem’, the short story with which he first tried to kill off Sherlock Holmes.

The Oprah-fication of Wimbledon

Now that the weakest Wimbledon since 1973 – the year of the boycott – is over, a few thoughts about Pam Shriver’s recent revelations that her coach Don Candy, deceased, was also her lover. Candy was 50 at the time, while Pam was 17, which in my book made Candy a lucky guy, assuming it was legal. The age of consent varies from place to place, and the only time I had to defend myself was when an irate father, whose 28-year-old daughter I had dated, rang me early in the morning and complained about me being 72. ‘There is no age limit as far as being too old,’ I told him. He rudely hung up on me. But before I go on about Pam Shriver and her oldie coach, a few comments are in order about how Oprah has taken over tennis and even Wimbledon.

A very classy thriller indeed: C4’s The Undeclared War reviewed

The Undeclared War has many of the traditional signifiers of a classy thriller: the assiduous letter-by-letter captioning of every location; the weirdly precise time-checks (‘Sunday 09.47’); above all, the frankly baffling opening scene. In it, a young woman walked around a deserted fairground, broke into a beach hut that turned into a gym and spotted a door in the ceiling which led into a stately home. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIqRL3xIypY Gradually, the fact that the first episode interspersed this with the same woman typing computer code made it clear what was going on: writer/director Peter Kosminsky was making a plucky attempt to solve his main challenge here.

What Wimbledon gets wrong about tennis fans

Brace yourself for the unmistakable sound of a tennis ball thwacking away in the background of your living room for two weeks - Wimbledon is finally upon us. As skilled as the players on the court are, it's the delightful spectacle of my family's amateur commentary that I enjoy the most. 'Who on earth is that?' my grandmother used to ask, unfailingly, when anyone unseeded dared to play against her beloved Steffi Graff. 'The Spaniard is touching his bum again' is the refrain in our house when Nadal prepares to serve. For the casual spectator, it's our lack of true tennis expertise that makes the tournament such a delight to watch: we like to gaze at its alchemy, without knowing too much about how the magic comes about.