High life
Grace under pressure
Taki
But grief is a private thing, and I don't mean to use her death to wax on lyricallY about the meaning of it all. She always laughed about my shenanigans and always encouraged me to live life as I saw fit. So, will dedicate to her this column concerning the best week I've had in a long time, and hope she reads it up there.
Speaking about grace under pressure, Royal Henley is everything Wimbledon used to be, a century ago — i.e. compet.1- tors, addicted by demonic passion for then' sport, fight for no overt financial reward. nor indeed any covert financial privilege offered by some brokerage house or who' ky firm. Sport and pain for the glory of sport and c'est tout. Real chariots of fire stuff. Today one can understand when a ghetto dweller works at some sport six hours a day hoping that if he excels he will be able to get out of the slum. But most rowers are from the middle classes. Never- theless they subject themselves to an enor- mous amount of pain in order to attain an excellence very few of us understand, and honours even fewer of us ever hear about. As David Halberstam wrote: `In our socie- ty the true madness in the search for excellence is left for the amateur.' There were no McEnroes, needless to say, at Henley.
Which is why when the soi-disant anarchists tried to disrupt Henley last Saturday, I was hoping they would get through the police line. Oh, how I would have loved to see some of the scullers have a go at the great unwashed dole-collectors Who sported £50 plimsolls and designer Jeans. 'Bash the rich,' yelled the disgusting ones, but the rich were all at Wimbledon that day, as they've been throughout the last fortnight. By rich I mean the public relations executives, the advertisers, the agents and the managers of the tennis players, the very same people whose greed has man- aged almost to create a circus of the tennis circuit, and whose venality makes it prob- able that ten years from now major tennis Championships will be played by kids under the age of 14, kids who will be unable to read and write but will know how to Pronounce four-letter words in most known languages. They will also be able to count, too.
Incidentally, the illegal signal-giving that Herr Becker has indulged in all week, his glaring-down of opponents, and his shoulder-charging while changing sides — along with some pretty fabulous tennis — are all due to his scowling Svengali, Ion Time. The Romanian dismisses these charges of unsportsmanlike conduct as a rage to win. What I don't understand is Why he takes so many chances. After all, Nystrom had match point against Becker. So, Why not break the opponent's arm in the locker room and make sure of victory? Or better yet, why not do away with all Possible threats by poisoning them in the locker room? But enough of unpleasant subjects such as the ghastly Tiriac. The reason my week was so much fun was Julia Geddes's ball, a Party full of people who didn't know the _clifference between Ward and Nelson :Bunker Hunt. In fact it was the best party I ha ve been to since Catherine Neidpath's mio years ago. I stayed until five in the tnorrung on a couple of glasses of cham- riagne, probably the greatest feat of my Needless to say, it was probably the ‘3.1.1.1Y party that night where Princess chael and her problems were never iscussed. And speaking of Princess Michael, I must say something in defence f Lord Dudley. Whatever the rumours Ping around say, Lord Dudley is an Lionourable man, and his problems with Princess Michael began when Lady Dudley and the Princess fell out over protocol while in Washington. All I know is that in April, while jogging on Central Park South, I thought I saw what the sewage press has been reporting of late. Red wig and all. When I checked it with Nigel Dempster the GLE said, 'Yes, yes, I know, but I won't run it, it will upset too many people.'
No wonder he's quit the Daily Mail. The GLE is getting soft. So am I.
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