Anyone for Tennis?

Wimbledon is kicking off and the jingoistic BBC is in something of a quandary.  First of all there is the small matter of the world cup.  Secondly, the brave Brit forever fated to fail heroically is in fact a dour Scot.

It’s all rather amusing.  Every four years the nation gets completely deluded by the England football team and their over-indulged, over-rated and utterly overpaid players.  We know in our heart of hearts that they are not very good.  We suspect they are not even particularly interested in playing for England.  But for some reason the nation’s media gets into frenzy about our world-class players and their smooth path to World Cup glory.  Until the wheels drop off in the first competitive match.

It’s all a bit different with tennis.  I think even the BBC realises that nobody is that bothered with tennis.  I make this blithe assumption because the middle-class leisure pursuit that is tennis gets no coverage whatsoever for 50 weeks of the year.  Then we get saturation coverage for two entire weeks – unless there is a world cup on.

Tennis strikes me as a particularly daft game.  It’s OK for a couple of yahoos to swat a yellow ball backwards and forwards at the club on a balmy evening.  But look what happens when things get serious.  You need about half a dozen line judges, a plethora of ball boy and girls and an umpire.  Technology seems to have replaced the bloke who sits on a chair with his finger on the net – but you have to admit – that’s an awful lot of extras for two people.

So once again I know that no Brit has won Wimbledon since 1936.  And once again I know that there is no danger whatsoever that this grim sequence will be broken.  At some point soon, Andy Murray will loose and become Scottish again.  But for now, even he must be somewhat pissed off to become a token plucky Brit.