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“The nation’s hopes of a different result this year – despite decades of bitter experience – are still tantalisingly alive”. So wrote Esther Addley in London’s Guardian newspaper on Monday.
No, she wasn’t talking about England’s recent jaunt in Denmark at the UEFA youth European Cup.
It’s Wimbledon, of course.
Day one at the All-England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club to be even more geographically precise.
Wimbledon. Where according to Michael Palin’s “Ripping Yarns” series, the play is so edge-of-your-seat thrilling that no-one in all of Peru is available to take you on an Andes mountain trek for a full 14 days.
Where Monty Python once pitted a Scotsman in a kilt named Angus Podgorny (played by Palin) against a blacmange in a titanic tennis struggle of intergalactic proportions.
Sample commentary from Eric Idle from episode seven of season one:
“Well, here at Wimbledon, it’s been a most extraordinary week’s tennis. The blancmanges have swept the board, winning match after match.
“Here are just a few of the results: Billie-Jean King eaten in straight sets, Laver smothered whole after winning the first set, and Poncho Gonzales, serving as well as I’ve never seen him, with some superb volleys and decisive return volleys off the back hand, was sucked through the net at match point and swallowed whole in just under two minutes.
“And so, here on the final day, there seems to be no players left to challenge the blancmanges.
“And this could be their undoing, …as the rules of Wimbledon state quite clearly that there must be at least one human being concerned in the final…Well, the blancmange is coming out onto the pitch now, and there is a human with it.
“It’s Angus Podgorny! The plucky little Scottish tailor…upon whom everything depends. And so it’s Podgorny versus blancmange! And it’s blancmange to serve and it’s a good one…”
A while later, it’s: “and Podgorny fails to even hit the ball…but this is no surprise as he hasn’t hit the ball once throughout this match. So it’s 72 match points to the blancmange now…Podgorny prepares to serve again.”
The scoreline reads Blancmange 6-0, 6-0, 5-0 and 40-0.
“But what’s this? Two spectators have rushed onto the pitch with spoons and forks…what are they going to do? And they’re eating the blancmange…Yes! The blancmange is leaving the court… it’s abandoning the game! This is fantastic!”
I couldn’t resist digressing…
Anyway, on Tuesday night I witnessed about 20 minutes of Wimbledon on 7TWO. Strangely titled “Wimbledon 2012” according to the digital text captions. Except that it didn’t state it was live.
But it did over on 7ONE barely half an hour later. “Wimbledon 2011 – live”. We’ll call that a computer gremlin/glitch for the moment and leave it aside.
Biding my time before “QI” came on the ABC, I must say I had a momentary reminder of why tennis is such an easy-on-the-eye television sport. Particularly making sense for fans of Test cricket. At English venues. Think of it as your bonus Ashes fortnight.
There’s a genuine closeness to them. Really, there is. Lord’s Cricket Ground at St John’s Wood and Wimbledon’s Aorangi Park are separated by just half an hour down the A219.
It’s not much of a leap to make – either in a car on a road or mentally, from your own armchair. Small spheres struck by people wearing no colourfulness whatsoever. It’s a perfect match!
Tennis and Test cricket in England both have similar attractive attributes for the sports fan.
It must be to do with the English weather. Or the pristine locations of grand sporting settings like Lord’s and Wimbledon. Or the way that cricketers break for afternoon tea. And Wimbledon is the only Grand Slam tennis event still able to be known simply as “The Championships…at Wimbledon”.
The whole thing oozes classiness at a level beyond any of the four kick-a-ball games. The fans seemingly more genteel. The polite clapping. Hushed tones.
Everyone wears white at Wimbledon. As much as we all love watching the Aussie players racing around the court in bright canary yellow in the Davis Cup, there’s something still soothing and familiar amid the hectic modern world about a dress code standard applying at the top level of a professional sport. And being generally abided by as well.
Bizarre trivia time: did you know that the trophy for the men’s singles winner includes the following inscription – “The All-England Lawn Tennis Club Single-Handed Champion Of The World”.
Sorry, all you baseline sluggers – that means no double-handed backhands, or you’re out!
Over at ABC online, Steve Pearce summed it up as “very civilised” – players even get to re-warm-up after a rain delay.
It’s quaint. It’s cool.
Then there’s the crack of leather on willow, replaced in tennis by, well…it’s more of a “sproing” or “thwack”, depending on where the effects microphone is positioned in relation to the fluffy yellow ball or the racquet strings – perhaps “sprack” or “thwoing” would sound better, but you know what I mean.
The MCC bacon and egg ties are swapped for umbrellas. Strawberries and cream for hot dogs and chips.
And over at Wimbledon Common, the Wombles are warming up to play the Glastonbury Festival this weekend. Does summer in the UK get any better?
So there you have it, folks. That’s why I don’t mind a bit of Wimbledon each Southern hemisphere winter. Boring as blancmange? Not a bit! In fact, maybe that’s the secret to keeping the public excited…Bring back more blancmange! With softer opponents like that, even Andy Murray might have a chance to snare that ever-elusive title for Scotland. Er, I mean England.
You know what I mean. But that’s a minor quibble, surely. Trifling, even.
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