Television
Illusory
Alexander Chancellor
Tf you actually go to Wimbledon, it is Isurprising how small the courts seem. They seem far too small for the huge louts who are banging balls about on them. The tiny passages between the courts, in which spectators form impenetrable traffic jams, make the whole thing seem smaller still. On television it all seems quite different. The courts seem large and the players rather small. I can't imagine how the cameras contrive to distort reality so much. You can see the players very well at Wimbledon, even from the upper tiers on the Centre Court. It is true that you do not get close-up views of John McEnroe's face when he is having a tantrum, or of the twisted expressions of the doomed English players as they prepare to disappoint the crowd, but on the whole you see every- thing very well. In short, it is better to be there than to watch it on television, not least because you are spared the commen- tary.
I don't know any more about tennis than the next man — probably rather less — but it is such a simple game to follow that one doesn't need to know anything. This is made evident by the television commenta- tors who don't really have anything to say except 'Good shot' or 'Bad shot', though they say things like 'Remarkable lob' instead. It is a great comfort to be allowed to watch the game without hearing them. It occurs to me that the opposite is true of football. When you watch football in the flesh (for want of a more attractive ex- pression), the field seems very big and the players very small. If you are far enough back on the stands, you feel you could manipulate them, as if you were playing table soccer in a pub. But because football is a complicated game it is rather hard to follow what is going on, and I find the television commentary a help.
Two Sundays ago Virginia Wade was on Face the Press (Channel 4). Last Sunday the programme's guest was Mr Cecil Par- kinson. Perhaps Mr Anthony Howard, the presenter, has a new policy of inviting has-beens. Mr Parkinson was as bland as ever, but I am only just beginning to appreciate that he is in fact rather a good politician. I didn't realise this when he was Chairman of the Conservative Party. Nor did I realise it when he resigned in dis- grace. But I did realise it on Sunday. He managed, while being irreproachable in his good manners and respect for his col- leagues, to imply that Mr John Selwyn Gummer was a completely third-rate party chairman with absolutely no future. One was left with the impression that Mr Parkinson's future will be far more grand. Perhaps it will be. Perhaps, though this
seems less likely, Virginia Wade's will be as well. Perhaps Mr Howard has his eye not on the past but on the future.
Last Sunday I marched with my family along the village street of Tolpuddle in Dorset, together with Mr Neil Kinnock, Mr Len Murray, and a few thousand other people celebrating the 150th anniversary of the Tolpuddle Martyrs. It was a happy occasion until suddenly, just a couple of yards from me, poor old Mr Murray collapsed. It is strange how callous people are on public occasions. Mr Murray, who had played a prominent part in the celebra- tions up till then, was whipped off in an ambulance and forgotten. A few minutes later all the grandees were up on a plat- form being presented 4o the crowd. The absence of Mr Murray was not mentioned. The television cameras were there too, of course. Only an hour or so. later I was watching the proceedings on the television news,. both BBC and ITN. Their coverage was interesting. Both almost completely ignored Mr Kinnock's speech, which was clearly intended more for the cameras than for the crowd, as he coined a phrase about the 'Angry Summer' — quite inappropriate to this peaceful summer day in the country, but obviously meant to catch on as a slogan, like the 'Winter of Discontent'. I think the broadcasting companies were probably right to ignore it, as it wasn't a good speech; but if I were Mr Kinnock, I would still be angry. More importantly, they missed all the events that were either unusual or touching. Television has a way of making everything the same. But this need no longer worry me for a bit. I am off for a few weeks. My place as television critic will be taken by Peter Levi, the new professor of poetry at Oxford.
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