In Good Company: Wimbledon
...But for once the male element took second place. The majority of us were more intent on viewing Virginia to victory again. Sadly she was outplayed by cool hand Chris. Fashions were not to disappoint us, lace frillies were coyly revealed below the ever-decreasing hemlines and hairstyles were as bouncy as ever...
Enid Blackburn's column harks back to a Wimbledon of yesteryear.
‘Are we all becoming teleholics?’ asked a newspaper headline. Had I not been so preoccupied with Wimbledon and Bette Davies I would have read on.
What a neck-jerking fortnight the tennis winners and losers gave us. Even the rotten weather could not defeat them; I enjoyed every nail-biting minute. The snappy fashions, pretty necklaces, coloured hair bands, flowing locks – and that was only the men’s singles.
But for once the male element took second place. The majority of us were more intent on viewing Virginia to victory again. Sadly she was outplayed by cool hand Chris. Fashions were not to disappoint us, lace frillies were coyly revealed below the ever-decreasing hemlines and hairstyles were as bouncy as ever.
Sue Barker’s haircut should look attractive when it’s completed. At the moment it looks as if her hairdresser was called away to India in mid cut.
It’s the animal-like personalities behind the rackets that I find most fascinating. Virginia Wade with her snarling panther-like crouch with all her hopes and fears shining in her eyes and Chris Evert whose bland expression reveals nothing. Her winsome stroll onto court reminded me of that doggy star of ‘Lady and the Tramp.’ Billie-Jean King is exactly like a rabbit we once had who used to pull its hair out when it felt broody.
Why is Wimbledon so special? ‘There is no other tournament in the world for which players prepare so thoroughly, making it the most difficult title for anyone to win,’ admits Viking Borg. Peak condition is vital as Evonne Cawley discovered when she tried to ignore a leg injury. Of course the £19,000 prize money has a certain appeal.
One of the attractions for me is the chance to dream myself into a kind of wonder woman all-winner. I do mean dream. A sort of ‘if only’ feeling. Given the correct accessories, a cute outfit, bouncy shoes, streamlined racket, plus the Wimbledon atmosphere – how could I lose?
In between watching matches I perform fantastic volleys on our coal house door. Yet when I stand on court it takes on terrifying dimension. My normally tall number one seed silhouetted on the far horizon looks more like one of the seven dwarfs.
Naturally look plays a prominent part. Take the easy way the stars bounce the retrieved balls back up on to their rackets, a simple flick of the wrist and it’s there.
I’ve attempted this many times but my balls refuse to play, instead they remain truculently attached to the ground. Bouncing the ball before service is another trick I never mastered, I never could catch with my left hand. Apart from this – why my Virginia Wade service makes my spouse feel so fed up, I can’t imagine – I feel truly wonderful as I throw back my head and shoulders, my eyes squinting upwards at the swirling white speck. Who knows, one day it could even land within hitting distance?
My holiday cry of ‘Who’s for tennis?’ can empty a holiday chalet in one minute. Fortunately my husband’s reflexes are not what they were and he usually submits.
Chris Evert’s double-handers can certainly strengthen one’s backstroke. I tried this last year and the ball shot out of court into the clouds and was last seen heading for a roundabout in a children’s playground nearby.
With planning and perseverance players like me could easily be accommodated. All we need are half-size courts, longer arms, bionic legs – Oh, and a comfortable chair for me to sit on while he fetches the ball.
Yes there’s a lot to be said for crown green bowling.
